Master?
Quite a few of the slave gladiators were stunned.
The people before them shared the same status, and were also slaves?
"I can see from your expressions that you are confused.
But before I explain the questions in your minds, I ask: Is there anyone who dares to step forward and fight me?!
Show me your strength, and prove whether you have what it takes to join our family here!
Whoever defeats me..."
As he spoke, a Spartan warrior stepped forward.
In his hands he carried a platter of roasted meat, which a companion had just fetched for him from the kitchen as his midday meal.
He picked up a piece of the freshly prepared, still steaming roast meat, sizzling faintly with butter.
"The victor will receive a piece of roasted meat from me!
No upper limit! Anyone is welcome to try!"
Meat!!!
Fresh and succulent meat.
That fragrant aroma and the sheer imposing sight of those thick cuts instantly stirred the eagerness of many warriors.
At the same time, a flicker of contempt passed through their eyes!
As proud and powerful Spartans and Thracians, no one shrank from a challenge.
There was even a reward for winning.
Even knowing that the consequences of defeat might be harsh,
"I will go!!!" one Spartan warrior stepped forward.
"Very well!" The veteran Spartan warrior nodded, then had the others clear space.
Both sides quickly opened up a patch of ground.
The female gladiators did not move to stand with either group.
Instead, together with the large number of ordinary women Night had purchased, they gathered in a separate cluster of their own, watching the clash with cold detachment.
Before long, the two Spartan warriors walked to the center, each armed with a wooden sword and wooden shield.
Both let out a battle cry and charged at each other simultaneously, clashing fiercely in an instant.
Their fighting styles were both ferociously aggressive.
Although wooden weapons had been used in advance to prevent actual fatalities, their tremendous strength still produced terrifying force.
The weapons in their hands were soon broken apart and they switched to fists and feet.
In the end, though both were Spartan warriors, the newcomer's mental state and physical condition were clearly no match for the veteran, who had already had several days of proper rest and recovery.
In the end, the veteran pinned the newcomer to the ground and beat him until he was powerless to resist and fell unconscious, then rose with a roar!
That veteran sat atop his fallen opponent, slowly stood, raised both fists high, and let out a howl toward the sky!
For a moment, that commanding display caused even a flicker of something to pass through the eyes of the female slaves who had been watching coldly from the side.
Looking at the scene, Night thought: 'Beautifully done.'
First, using food to deliberately tempt these gladiators who had gone without such things for a long time into fighting, then relying on the naturally superior condition and attributes gained from days of rest to decisively overpower the newcomer, demonstrating his own strength.
Those female slaves who admired power now looked at him with entirely different eyes.
In that moment, the Spartan warrior was like a peacock spreading its feathers.
Through this entire performance, he had not only crushed the newcomers' arrogance, but also displayed his strength and increased his appeal as a mate in the process.
And his actions would inevitably provoke the newcomers to unite against a common adversary, allowing those people to quickly form a sense of solidarity among themselves.
From that point forward, neither side would yield to the other and they would compete constantly, leaving no energy to foment rebellion or threaten his own standing.
Was it deliberate?
Night, who had been watching everything from the side, found himself developing some interest in this Spartan warrior.
If he continued to perform well, perhaps he could be promoted to squad leader in the future.
Afterward, the other veterans began to follow suit, taking turns challenging the newcomers to bouts.
The majority of the veterans emerged victorious, with only a small number of newcomers winning through sheer overwhelming ability.
Though the two sides began by fighting fiercely, as things continued they seemed to develop a kind of camaraderie, and the atmosphere grew increasingly warm.
However, this warmth, or perhaps mutual respect between kindred spirits, was interrupted after the fighting concluded when the veterans finally informed the newcomers of the system here.
Rather than serving as slaves, they would serve as warriors fighting for their master.
Moreover, those who performed well could, under the master's witness and arrangement, marry female slaves and have children, being granted the right to start a family.
All at once, even the female slaves who had been standing apart as if unaffected were startled, and some even flushed with embarrassment.
Yet the eyes of several bold female Spartan warriors were brimming with eagerness, some even excitement, and their gazes drifted involuntarily toward the few powerful warriors who had won their bouts.
But noticing the gazes of these female warriors, those powerful warriors could not help but straighten their chests, feigning proud indifference while displaying their masculine appeal.
Now the other warriors could no longer sit still!
What?!
Such a thing existed?
Several warriors who had lost their bouts by only a narrow margin felt their envy flare sharply.
'Damn it... I let my guard down!
Had I known, I would have fought with everything I had.'
In fact, some of them had not fought at full strength during the bout.
Being newcomers after all, with wariness still in their hearts, their movements had been somewhat reserved during combat.
Had they unleashed their full fighting spirit and gone at it with real passion, they were not necessarily going to lose.
However, because of this revelation, many of the warriors had already begun to feel a sense of belonging toward this new home.
It was precisely because they were moved by those benefits that the sense of belonging arose.
But one slave warrior chose to throw cold water on things at that moment.
"Do you actually intend to serve a Roman?
Have you all cast away Spartan pride like it is dung?
I am truly ashamed for you."
"You insolent wretch! What did you say?!"
Among the newcomers, a Spartan warrior continued with a face full of contempt and cold arrogance.
"I will not willingly remain here as a slave forever. If I find an opportunity,
I will escape and return to Sparta... to fight for Sparta once more, rather than be bought over by some worthless, dog-dirt aristocrat!
A little material comfort and you have all forgotten the dignity of the strong, submitting yourselves to someone who is far inferior to you.
You truly have none of the backbone of a Spartan."
...
One of the veteran warriors retorted furiously. "The master is no weakling!"
"Ha. That is nothing but your own one-sided account of things.
And you, our Spartan sisters, do you truly intend to marry yourselves to this group of men whose spirits are broken?
These men who have cast aside the dignity of a Spartan are utterly unworthy of marrying Spartan women." The newcomer Spartan warrior then turned to stir up the female group on the other side.
...
And the proudest among the female warriors replied with equal coldness. "We would naturally never set our eyes on weaklings.
Unless they can prove that their master truly possesses strength far surpassing their own.
Spartans have never submitted to the feeble!
We can fight for someone, but what can make our spirits truly submit is only a genuine lion among men!"
...
To tell the truth, these newcomers had not witnessed the scene in which Lista Night had overwhelmed Spartacus and Gnaeus Pompeius before.
And their capacity for sensing power was far less sharp than those two.
Judging purely by Night's appearance, a pale-skinned aristocrat with smooth white muscle, in the eyes of Spartans who spent every day under the open sun, he looked like nothing more than a pretty ornament with no real substance beneath it.
He would need at least a bronzed complexion, and a few more scars across his body, before claims of his strength would carry any weight.
And then, just at that moment, without any warning, a familiar voice that everyone present recognized rang out quietly and unhurriedly.
"Is that so. Then I will give you an opportunity."
"Since you all wish to see my strength!"
All the slaves were startled at once, turning to find that the voice belonged to Night, who had arrived at their side at some unknown point.
In that instant, the female Spartan warrior who had just spoken felt the color drain from her face, and she bit down slightly on her teeth.
Though she was proud, she knew full well that she was a slave at this moment, and had been caught speaking ill of her master right to his face.
Even if every word had been her honest feelings, having the slave owner hear them was unlikely to sit well with him.
If he chose to do something about it, to punish her, then...
.
.
.