The arena gates closed behind him, muffling the roar of tens of thousands of spectators into a distant echo. Ulysses stood on the bustling streets of Capua, disoriented.
He was free.
Yet, freedom felt like a foreign cloak. He was alone, his body a map of pain, and in his pouch, only a few silver coins, the bloody spoils of his victory. He saw the stares of those who passed him. They recognized him. The face of the new, impossible champion. They whispered, pointed, but no one approached. After all, he was a former gladiator, a creature from a dangerous otherworld.
As night fell, he used a small portion of his money to rent a room in the cheapest inn he could find. The room was cramped, reeked of spilled wine and despair, and its straw bed felt harder than the cell floor in the ludus. He lay in the darkness, listening to the city sounds, feeling every throb of pain in his body. This was his first night of freedom, and he had never felt more alone.
The next morning, as he sat in the dirty common room of the inn, a woman approached his table. Her clothes were clean, her posture erect, a stark contrast to her surroundings.
"Ulysses," she said, her voice calm and respectful. "Domina Licinia has prepared a more fitting place for you. Please follow me."
Ulysses looked at the woman. He hadn't planned this. He hadn't expected this. But he knew he had no other choice. He nodded and followed the servant out of the inn.
He was led to a house in a more respectable part of the city. Not large, but clean and private. Inside, everything had been prepared. A set of tunics of fine cloth folded on the bed. Food and wine served on the table. And beside it, a heavy leather pouch. It contained enough to live comfortably for months.
The servant bowed. "The Domina will visit you when night falls." She then left, leaving Ulysses alone in the silence of his new home.
Ulysses walked to the balcony, gazing at the rooftops of Capua. He took an apple from the table, taking a bite. It was sweet. He held the heavy pouch of coins in his hand. He was free. He had a home. He had money. All this was not a result of his plan, but a result of the desire of a noblewoman he had manipulated. His plan had triggered a chain reaction that was now moving beyond his control.
He looked at the darkening sky. A faint smile, filled with awe and a hint of weariness, touched his lips.
"Women..." he whispered to the wind.
Night fell quickly. Ulysses stood in the main room of his new house, the lamplight dancing on the walls. He had bathed, the clean water feeling like an extraordinary luxury. He wore a soft linen tunic against his skin. He felt like an actor donning a costume for a role he didn't fully understand yet.
The door opened without a knock.
Licinia stepped in, her dark cloak concealing her figure. She closed the door behind her. In this dimly lit room, she no longer looked like an arrogant noblewoman. Her eyes gleamed with the same fire as at the feast, but this time, there was no audience.
She walked closer, her hand reaching out and tracing the scar on Ulysses's shoulder, where the slave mark had once burned. "Mine," she whispered, her voice husky.
She pulled Ulysses's face down and kissed him. This kiss wasn't like the kisses of the queens in the villa. This kiss was deep, possessive, and full of long-suppressed desire.
She pulled Ulysses towards the bed. There was no more hesitation. No more complex power games. This was pure lust between a woman accustomed to getting what she wanted and a man who had become the object of that desire.
Their clothes fell to the floor. Under the moonlight streaming in from the window, their bodies entwined. Licinia's hands explored every muscle on Ulysses's back, her nails lightly scratching. She straddled Ulysses, taking control, her hips moving with a demanding and passionate rhythm.
Her moans filled the room, a song of released desire. Ulysses responded with equal vigor, gripping her hips, his thrusts deep and powerful. Sweat slicked their bodies, the silk sheets beneath them becoming damp and tangled. This was a storm of passion, a brutal and beautiful celebration of freedom. Their climaxes came simultaneously, an explosion that shook the bed, leaving them lying limp and breathless in each other's arms.
The next morning, they breakfasted together on the small balcony, a domestic scene that felt utterly surreal to Ulysses. Licinia looked different in the sunlight, more relaxed, a satisfied smile always playing on her lips.
"Batiatus is hosting a feast at his villa in a few days," Licinia said, sipping her wine. "He wants to celebrate all his new victories, I suppose."
She looked at Ulysses, her eyes gleaming slyly. "I will be attending, of course. And you," she said, her tone now reverting to that of a Domina. "You will go with me. As my escort. Make sure you look worthy of standing by my side."
Ulysses simply nodded. This was it. The invitation back to the snake's den. Not as a slave, not as a display. But as an associate of one of the most influential women there, with a secret plan in his heart.
The blue panel glowed, unseen by Licinia.
{Intimacy completed. Target: Upper-Class Noble (Category 4).}
{Life Essence gained: +50}
The banquet in Batiatus's main villa hall was a theater of falsity. Ulysses stood silently behind Licinia, holding a goblet of wine for her, his sharp eyes sweeping the room. He saw the nobles laugh too loudly, their smiles never reaching their eyes. He saw the slaves moving silently among them, their faces fragile masks of obedience. His Basic Psychology sensed an immense tension beneath the surface, a string pulled almost to breaking point.
Something bad would happen tonight. He could feel it.
As the guests began to move towards the balcony to witness the promised fight, Ulysses quickly slipped to a serving table. His hand moved swiftly, grabbing a small but sharp fruit knife, and concealing it within his leather belt, hidden by the folds of his tunic. A precaution. A whisper from his instincts.
On the balcony, the atmosphere grew denser. The nobles stood crammed near the railing, politely jostling for the best view of the training yard below. Ulysses stood among them, a human shield for Licinia. He saw Batiatus raise his goblet.
"To the champions!" Batiatus roared. "And to the blood they will shed for our amusement! Spartacus! Crixus! Begin!"
Below, on the sand, the fight began. Steel clashed with steel, creating sparks that danced in the darkness. The nobles around Ulysses cheered.
Ulysses didn't focus on the fight itself. His trained eyes scanned everything. He saw Mira, Lucretia's servant, leave her post and disappear into the villa. He saw Crixus's shield thrown and land in a too-perfect position beneath the balcony. He saw a fleeting glance between Spartacus and Crixus.
His Military Tactics screamed. This was not a duel. This was a maneuver.
When Crixus fell beside the shield and tapped his sword, Ulysses knew he was right. He felt a cold shiver run down his spine. The rebellion was about to begin.
In that split second, with all eyes on Spartacus preparing to run, Ulysses's 360-Degree Awareness caught a presence near him. Ashur. The Syrian stood among the crowd, a sly smile plastered on his face as he watched the drama unfold below. He was the only one who knew too many of Ulysses's secrets. A tangled thread that needed to be cut.
This was an opportunity that wouldn't come twice.
Ulysses moved.
He slipped among the mesmerized nobles. No one noticed him. All eyes were on Spartacus. He arrived behind Ashur.
His hand moved as swiftly as a snake. One hand clamped over Ashur's mouth to stifle any scream. The other hand, holding the knife, plunged deep into the base of the Syrian's neck.
Ashur's eyes widened in shock. A wet, choking sound escaped his throat. Warm blood drenched Ulysses's hand.
Before the body could even slump, Ulysses pushed it hard.
Ashur's body was flung over the balcony railing, falling silently into the crowded training yard below, his death masked by the audience's anticipation of what would happen next.
Just then, Ulysses heard Spartacus's footsteps, drawing closer. He had cleared one problem. Now, the real storm was coming.
Ashur's body hit the sand below just as Spartacus's foot slid from Crixus's shield. With an explosive surge of muscle, Crixus launched the Thracian into the air.
The nobles shrieked.
Spartacus landed heavily on the balcony, smashing a small table laden with fruits. He rose unsteadily, his blazing eyes locked onto Batiatus.
"BATIATUS!"
He lunged forward, both his swords ready to tear. Batiatus, his face deathly pale with terror, grabbed the nearest person, Sextus, and shoved the noble forward as a human shield.
SLASH!
Spartacus's sword pierced Sextus's neck without hindrance. Sextus's eyes widened in shock, a choking sound escaping his mouth before his body crumpled to the floor. Aemilia screamed hysterically, a sound that marked the beginning of hell.
Below, Crixus roared, and the gladiators simultaneously charged the unsuspecting guards. Inside the villa, the household slaves drew kitchen knives and other sharp objects, attacking guests and other servants loyal to their master. The slaughter had begun.
The balcony became a death trap.
"Ulysses!" Licinia shrieked, clutching his arm, her face pale with fear.
Amidst the chaos, Ulysses was the only point of calm. He had anticipated this. He had acted. Now it was time to complete his mission. He saw Ilithyia and Aemilia cowering in fear near the wall.
"Stay behind me!" Ulysses commanded, his voice sharp and authoritative.
"Ulysses! Join us!" Spartacus yelled.
Ulysses looked at him for a moment. He had made his choice.
He began pulling Licinia, Ilithyia, and Aemilia through the chaos. Military Tactics in his mind screamed to find an exit, not to fight the storm. The main staircase had become a slaughter zone. He saw a servant's door at the end of the balcony.
Their path was blocked by Agron. Ulysses grabbed a weapon from the floor. The German warrior looked at him with eyes full of anger and disappointment. "You protect them?"
"This isn't your fight, Agron," Ulysses said, pushing the women behind him.
"You chose the wrong side."
Their fight was quick and brutal. Agron was strong, but Ulysses was faster and more focused. He dodged Agron's wild sword swings and slammed the pommel of his own sword into the German warrior's jaw, knocking him unconscious. He had no time to kill.
He kept moving, dragging the three women with him. They finally managed to reach a back gate leading to the dark streets of Capua.
Ulysses pushed them out, then turned back for a final look. He saw Batiatus's villa now beginning to be engulfed in flames. He heard the roars of triumph from the brothers he had left behind. He felt Spartacus's gaze from a distance. A look of disappointment.
He turned and closed the door behind him, separating himself forever from that world. He stood in the dark alley, panting, flanked by three of Capua's most influential women who now owed him their lives.
He had lost the brotherhood of gladiators. But he had won the foundation for his future.
---------------------------------------------------------
{Name: Ulysses (Thomas Vance)}
{Title: - }
{Stored Essence: 113}
{Active Legacies: [Talent] Rapid Adaptation, [Knowledge] Basic Psychology (Tier 1), [Talent] 360-Degree Awareness, [Knowledge] Roman Military Tactics (Tier 1)}