Chapter 5: The White One
Chapter 5: The White One
Spartacus? Like the real Spartacus? No way! I can’t believe I’m standing next to an actual legend in the making!
Alex exclaimed internally.
Calm down, Alex. He might just be a rando who shares the same name.
His mind was a clusterfuck as he shook shitty hands with Spartacus.
"So, what were you thrown in here for?" Alex asked.
"The crowd wanted me to kill the other guy." Spartacus sighed, leaning against the shit‑stained wall of the pit. "But I wouldn’t give them that satisfaction. Akosa was fuming." He laughed, a little hysterically.
Alex chuckled along as he wondered: ’Who’s Akosa?’
"And what about you?" Spartacus asked, waving his finger around the pit. "What are you here for?"
"I asked for breakfast." Alex sighed.
"Before training?" Spartacus exclaimed. "You’ve got some balls in you—"
Spartacus was cut short by Alex’s grumbling stomach.
They stared at each other for a beat, then burst into laughter.
"By the gods, you’re one interesting character." Spartacus said, catching his breath. "This is the most I’ve laughed since arriving at this place."
"I’m glad I could be of service." Alex chuckled.
"So, where did you come from?" Alex asked after a brief pause.
Spartacus let out a deep sigh, then cracked a weak, reminiscent smile. "Thrace." He answered, still wearing that sad smile. "By the beautiful Struma river." The pain of not‑so‑distant memories bled through his voice.
That was it. Thrace. The Struma river. That was the piece of information his brain had been desperately reaching for since he woke up in that arena.
Alex’s mind went completely blank for a second.
Before his thoughts went wild again.
’He’s real.’ He thought. ’He’s actually real. Spartacus. THE Spartacus. I wrote a whole essay on this man.’ He could feel something close to hysteria building in his chest. ’I’m in ancient Rome having a conversation with a historical legend while we’re both neck deep in human waste.’
He took a slow breath.
’Okay. Calm down. Just act normal.’
A beat.
’At least now I have something to work with. Spartacus. Third Servile War. Somewhere around 73 BC. Late Roman Republic.’ He paused internally. ’I should’ve paid more attention in that lecture.’
Alex kept his face calm, but inside he was literally jumping.
’I feel like I should—’
"Alex?"
’—ask for an autograph.’ Alex blurted out, snapped back mid‑thought.
"What?" Spartacus asked, confused.
"O‑oh! N‑nothing." Alex chuckled nervously. ’Fuck. Can’t believe I said that out loud.’
---
"Wow. I leave for one minute, and you both are already sucking on each other’s cocks." A deep voice broke out, startling the two lads in the pit.
"Akosa." Spartacus snarled, looking up.
’Oh! So, he’s Akosa.’ Alex realized.
"Let down the ropes!" Akosa ordered the soldiers behind him. He stepped back as he watched the guards haul a thick rope into the pit.
"You go first," Alex said to Spartacus. "You’ve been here longer."
Spartacus nodded, grabbing the rope. As he was pulled out, Akosa hissed, "You stubborn bastard! Pull that stunt again, and I swear, I’m gonna kill you myself."
Spartacus said nothing. Akosa’s lips curled into a menacing grin as he spat on the ground, his gaze still lingering on Spartacus.
"Ack!" Alex’s groan broke the staredown.
"Ah, giant slayer!" Akosa exclaimed, walking toward Alex. "The man of the hour." Mockery dripped from his voice. "I was at least expecting to see one of you laying face down in shit." He let out a huge laugh. "You’re a lot more tenacious than you look."
As Akosa made that statement, the system sent Alex a notification: ’Ping! +5 points rewarded for tenacity.’
’You show up at the most random times,’ Alex thought.
He glanced at the countdown in the corner of his vision: Temporal Dilatation (Level 1) – Cooldown: 04:47:28.
He sighed, then was yanked up by the guards.
Akosa turned and began to walk toward one of the tunnels of the Colosseum without saying a word. The guards followed, dragging the two lads along.
They went into the tunnel, leaving behind most of the stench of the pit. They navigated a series of corridors, then burst out onto the busy streets of Rome.
It was the first time Alex had laid eyes on the magnificent city.
Bright‑colored marble buildings rose on both sides. Men in tunics – some with togas draped over their shoulders – walked past, sandals slapping stone. Women in stolas, their hair pinned up, moved in small groups. A few senators in purple‑trimmed togas strolled like they owned the sun. Merchants called out their wares – bread, oil, cheap jewellery. Some boy chanted something about the Senate and the weekly games – Alex didn’t really pay attention.
"This is beautiful," he said under his breath. Then he remembered the shit pit, the amputated man, the arena waiting for him. ’Beautiful, but it eats people.’
---
"Move it!" A guard nudged him toward a cage cart parked ahead.
The cart was an iron cage on two iron‑rimmed wheels, its bars rough and sharp. Alex’s fingers brushed the metal – warm from the sun, sticky with old sweat. The floor was covered in straw that smelled of horses and piss. A single chain lay coiled in the corner, rusted at the links.
He climbed in. Spartacus followed. The cart creaked under their weight, and the wheels groaned as the horses began to drag them forward.
The ride was quiet between them, though the city bustled around them. Every bump sent a jolt through Alex’s spine. The iron bars rattled. Dust kicked up from the wheels, settling on his tongue like fine sand.
Akosa rode on a horse just behind, his eyes fixed on Alex. He stared at his shit stained pale skin, and white hair, that looks more brown, than white. Before saying-
"You look so sickly frail, with that skin and hair color," breaking the silence. "I’m still wondering how you managed to beat Brutus the giant."
Alex didn’t reply. He could feel the man’s gaze on the back of his neck like a brand.
"Guess we’ll find out if you’re a fluke soon enough," Akosa concluded.
They continued the rest of the journey without any more words. The sun climbed higher. The cart’s shadow shortened. The smell of the city faded into dust and sweat.
It took some time, but they finally arrived at the ludus. When they reached the entrance, it was swarming with guards. The grey, high concrete walls made the place look even more depressing.
"This is more like a prison than a ’ludus.’" Alex remarked.
"Exactly what I said, the first time I laid eyes on it." Spartacus commented. "And unfortunately, this would be our home, till the gods know when." He sighed.
"Till you die in the sands of the arena." Akosa intruded, with a smirk. "Don’t think for even a second, that any of you are making it out of here alive." He added, with an evil chuckle.
"We’ll see about that." Alex said under his breath.
Spartacus caught that, and let out a little smirk.
As they got through the thick gates of the ludus, Alex could already hear the strained grunts of men, and the striking of woods.
As they got to the courtyard, he saw men in nothing but loin clothes striking wooden poles, with wooden swords. The air within the ludus was different, in a suffocating way.
The cage cart came to a hilt, and the lads were dragged down, with their shackles dangling and clanging, with every sway.
They were both made to stand in front of a 2 storey building, with a balcony that overlooked most of the ludus.
There they could see a man already standing there, staring down at them.
Alex recognized him immediately. "The lanista." He muttered to himself.
"Boy!" Ignatius called out. "The albino." He said pointing at Alex. "What is your name, boy?" He asked, his deep voice, resonating through the courtyard.
"Alex." Alex replied. And in that instant, Akosa rushed to his side, and struck him at the back of his knee, forcing Alex to kneel.
"Show respect while you speak to the lanista." Akosa said.
Alex winced, as he went down. He gritted his teeth, as he looked up at Akosa, who had that twisted grin on his face.
Spartacus saw the look in Alex’s eyes, and thought to himself; ’interesting’ and smirked.
Ignatius, not bothered by the alterations beneath him, simply remarked, "What a strange name." Then a pause. "From hence forth, you’ll be Albius- the white one." He decreed, as he signaled for Akosa to integrate them into training, with a flick of his hand.
Alex and Spartacus, were led to the table with practice swords, and made their picks.
Alex looked around the courtyard. The red sands that looked like they’d seen their fair share of blood. High buildings that acted as thick walls, surrounding the courtyard, and blocking out most of the sun. He noticed guards patrolling a top the buildings.
As they got to the table, the lads both picked up wooden short swords.
"You don’t look like you’ve ever held a sword before." Spartacus said, looking at Alex’s grip on the hilt.
"That’s because I haven’t." Alex responded with a weary smile.
Spartacus paused, and looked at the scrawny, pale, shit-covered boy in front of him. He recognized a hint of fiery look in his eyes, and chuckled. "I wonder what your story is." Before heading for the wooden poles.
Alex just sighed, and followed. He took a quick glance at the system UI at the corner of his vision
’Temporal Dilatation (level 1): On cool down.
Time remaining: 01:20:17’
The training went on for quite a while. Alex could already feel his palms blister on the hilt of the wooden sword. His shoulders also felt heavy. But he gritted through the pains.
’Ping! +5 points for Tenacity.’
➡️check status windows for updates⬅️
"You seem to enjoy it, when I suffer." Alex hissed through gritted teeth.
....
’Crack!’ Akosa’s whip split the air.
"That’s enough!" Akosa’s voice rang out as he snapped his whip against the sand.
The sounds of wooden swords hitting stakes died out in the courtyard. Men exhaled, exhausted.
Alex fell to the ground. His palms were blistered, his shoulders sore, his head spinning. His chest, rising and falling with every gasp. In that instant, he got a system notification.
Ping!
He sat up immediately, ignoring the pain, and focused on the notification.
’Skill: Temporal Dilatation (Lv 1) has completed its cooldown period.’
"Finally," Alex heaved, mentally clicking on his status window.
```
Sands of Fate System
Host: Human
Name: Alex Norman
Skills: Temporal Dilatation Lv 1 (3 charges)
Status: Exhausted
Points: 60/100
Daily tasks: Completed
```
He closed the window and sluggishly dragged himself back up.
"Gather around, boys!" Akosa bellowed. "It’s time for the main event."
Alex walked up to Spartacus like a lost lamb. "What’s the ’main event’?"
"Sparring matchups." Spartacus sighed. "Akosa enjoys this part because he gets to lash whoever loses with his whip."
"Now hurry and get into positions!" Akosa yelled.
Ignatius remained on his balcony, watching. His eyes tracked one person in particular – Alex.
The gladiators formed a loose circle around Akosa.
"And for the first matchup..." Akosa paused, scanning. "You!" He pointed at a huge, hulking man almost as tall as Brutus the giant. Thick arms, a chest like a barrel, and a scar running from his eyebrow to his jaw. "And you!" Akosa smirked, pointing at Spartacus.
Spartacus stepped into the circle, wooden sword in hand. The hulking man followed, cracking his neck.
"Fight!"
The giant lunged first, swinging his wooden sword like a club. Spartacus ducked – the blade whistled over his head. He pivoted, slashing at the giant’s ribs. Thwack. The giant grunted but didn’t slow. He backhanded Spartacus across the shoulder, sending him stumbling.
Spartacus recovered quickly, circling. He was faster, sharper. He feinted left, then lunged right, catching the giant’s thigh. Another thwack. The giant hissed, but then his hand shot out and grabbed Spartacus’s wrist.
"Shit," Spartacus muttered.
The giant yanked him forward and drove his shoulder into Spartacus’s chest. That sucked out all the air in Spartacus’s lungs. He staggered, but as the giant raised his sword for a finishing blow, Spartacus snapped a kick into the giant’s knee. The man buckled. Spartacus slammed his wooden sword into the giant’s ribs – crack – something gave. The giant roared in pain but didn’t fall.
He swung his sword wildly. Spartacus dodged, but the giant’s other hand caught his arm and twisted. ’Snap’. A sickening, wet crack. Spartacus screamed.
The crowd of gladiators went silent.
Spartacus dropped to his knees, clutching his arm. The bone bent at an unnatural angle. His face was pale, sweat beading on his forehead, but he didn’t cry out again. He just breathed hard, glaring up at the giant.
The giant staggered, catching his ribs, looked to Akosa, unsure.
"Winner," Akosa said, grinning. He walked over to Spartacus and kicked his fallen wooden sword away. "Get him to Gaius. If he’s lucky, he’ll fight again in a month."
Two guards dragged Spartacus away. He didn’t look back at Alex – but Alex saw his jaw clenched, his eyes wet.
Akosa turned to the circle. "Next!"
One by one, Akosa called out matchups. A scarred veteran beat a younger man in seconds – thwack, thwack, thwack – the young man’s nose bloodied. Two equally matched gladiators circled each other for a full minute before one landed a lucky hit to the temple, sending the other down. Akosa’s whip cracked across the loser’s back. A tall, thin fighter used his reach to keep a stocky brawler at bay, winning by points. A brawl between two brutes ended with both on the ground, and Akosa declared it a draw – and lashed both.
Each time, the whip fell. Each time, the defeated gladiator gritted his teeth and took it.
Then Akosa stopped. His eyes swept the circle and landed on Alex.
"You."
Alex’s blood went cold.
"The white one." Akosa pointed. "And you." He pointed to another huge man – not as tall as the first, but wide, with arms like tree trunks. A bald head and dead eyes.
Alex stepped into the circle. His heart thumped against his ribs. He could feel Ignatius’s gaze from the balcony, heavy as a stone.
He glanced at his system UI. Temporal Dilatation: 3 charges.
’Don’t use it unless you have to,’ he told himself.
The huge man cracked his knuckles. Akosa raised his hand.
On the balcony, Ignatius leaned forward, his elbows on the railing.
"Fight!"
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