Crixus and Spartacus slowly raised their hands to their sword hilts, as if in a solemn agreement.
Marcus signaled the soldiers behind him, instructing them not to shoot regardless of what happened.
A strange emotion flickered in Crixus's eyes.
Though he had resolved to face death calmly, he couldn't shake the lingering feelings of camaraderie for his closest friend.
"It's a shame for a gladiator to lose twice to the same opponent. But I don't intend to lose to you now. This is the final road. I must reclaim the best seat in Capua that I entrusted to you."
"Sorry, but I can't grant you that wish."
The eyes of the two strongest gladiators sparked with fierce intensity.
The situation was primed to explode at any moment.
Without hesitation, they both drew their spathas with lightning speed.
Clang!
Their swords collided mid-air.
Spartacus felt an unusual sensation in his hand.
Though he was clearly stronger than Crixus, Crixus did not falter.
He adjusted his wrist with precision at the moment of impact, dissipating the force.
He was a different fighter from the Crixus Spartacus had known; whatever training he had undergone had transformed him.
Swoosh!
Not only was Crixus's technique flexible, but his sword also moved with astonishing speed.
The tip of the sword barely grazed Spartacus's chainmail before passing by.
"Haah!"
Spartacus couldn't afford to be surprised.
With a determined roar, he launched a sword strike aimed at disarming Crixus.
Crash, clang!
The strike was faster and stronger than before.
Crixus's sword, unable to fully deflect the blow, was driven backward.
"······!"
Both men were shocked for different reasons.
'How did I not break his sword?'
'I thought I had deflected it well enough.'
Spartacus was stunned to find himself matched, but Crixus's surprise was even greater.
Despite honing his sword skills in the bloody, flesh-splattering battles of the past two years, he had only managed to catch up to Spartacus, not surpass him.
Clash!
Another clash of swords followed as the two gladiators began to engage in earnest.
In an instant, their movements synchronized, creating a chilling wind and a flurry of flashing steel.
For nearly three minutes, they exchanged blows with intense focus.
As if on cue, they both stepped back, their eyes reflecting a faint admiration for each other.
Crixus let out a sigh and bit his tongue.
"It seems you weren't just toying with me in Rome. I thought I could overpower you, but it looks like this fight will end only when one of us dies."
"Yeah. You're right. There's no telling who will win if we fight to the end."
"But we have to see it through, right? You came here determined to do that. To be honest, if I'm to die, I'd rather fall by your hand than by those Roman bastards."
"Is that true?" Spartacus asked, his eyes reflecting sadness.
If Crixus didn't want to fight, he wouldn't have pointed his sword at him.
He couldn't.
Spartacus's resolve hinged on the assumption that Crixus was prepared to accept the challenge.
As if reading his thoughts, Crixus nodded with a hearty laugh.
"Of course. But it's still too quiet here to settle the score. Let's create the most magnificent stage for our final battle. If we fight, it should be a legendary duel."
He had resolved to leave his mark with his death, not by changing the era with his life.
The final stage should be as glorious as possible.
Of course, that didn't mean he intended to lose.
If he lost to the same opponent twice, it would be a bitter end.
Crixus was determined to face his demise with dignity, as the strongest gladiator who had once defeated Spartacus.
If his friend was resolved to this, there was no need for further hesitation.
Spartacus glanced at Marcus behind him, as if seeking permission.
It was a matter that didn't require approval.
Marcus gave his immediate consent.
"Do as you wish."
"Thank you."
Crixus observed Spartacus bow his head politely and noticed a hint of curiosity in his eyes.
He took a step closer with an intrigued expression.
"Are you the nobleman Spartacus mentioned? You're quite young to be on the battlefield. I'm not sure if that's bravery or recklessness."
"It's all calculated. But you're different from what I heard. I expected you to be more beastly, but you seem surprisingly calm."
"People change according to their roles. A leader can't always act like a beast. By the way, Spartacus seems to follow you very faithfully. Do you really have the skills to deserve that?"
"Crixus, don't be rude…"
Spartacus attempted to intervene, but Marcus waved him off reassuringly.
With a relaxed smile, Marcus replied, "Your friend knows that best. That's why he follows me. But if I were to address one thing related to this war, it's those heavily armed cavalrymen who have been nightmares for you. If I told you I created them, would you understand a bit more?"
"Those monstrous cavalrymen…"
Crixus bit his lip slightly, recalling the fearsome medium-armored cavalry that had mercilessly trampled the rebels. He narrowed his eyes and asked, "So… you created a new type of legion that Rome didn't previously have. I have one question for you. If you become a powerful figure in Rome, can you change things as Spartacus hoped? Will that day ever come?"
"It will change. I can't promise to free all the slaves, and I won't, but it will be much better than it is now. It's not just for you. I aim to improve the lives of everyone in Rome."
"Then it would be like a dream…"
"It's possible. I'm sincerely sorry that you won't live to see it."
Crixus's face showed shock.
Marcus was not bluffing.
He was calmly presenting the reality that would come to pass.
His voice was indifferent yet calm, carrying a frightening persuasiveness.
Crixus instinctively understood why Spartacus trusted this young man and headed to Rome.
Creating a monstrous cavalry was just a glimpse of this boy's capabilities.
Crixus had no choice but to admit it.
This boy before him would indeed change Rome in some way.
As he accepted this astonishing truth, his tone naturally softened.
At the same time, he asked the question he most wanted to know but also feared.
"I want to ask you something. Did what I, or rather, what my comrades and I did… did it hinder the changes you will make? Is what we are doing now… just a meaningless struggle that will be judged as such?"
If the answer was yes, it could affect the final battle.
He regretted asking such a question, but Marcus shook his head with a gentle smile.
"It won't be like that. You've already sounded an alarm that made Rome reconsider its social structure. You won't be disparaged for fighting meaninglessly. No, I won't let that happen. So don't worry."
Crixus looked up at the sky with bloodshot eyes.
That was enough for him.
How could someone who has faced death not be afraid?
No one can completely rid themselves of fear. But when promised something of greater value, one can endure even the horror of death.
"My comrades may have different desires, but there is one thing they all fear: being forgotten. Our fight should not be erased from memory. Please ensure that our will and our final battle are remembered."
Crixus lowered his gaze and looked directly into Marcus's eyes.
Marcus glanced over at the rebels camped on the distant hill.
There were countless hopes among those who sought freedom.
"I promise you. From Heaven, you will see how your names will be remembered."
This was Marcus's sincere vow.
※※※※
"It doesn't seem easy."
Spartacus, who was watching Crixus leave, suddenly spoke.
"You mean Crixus?"
"Yes. I thought he would have grown stronger, but he has surpassed my expectations."
"Is he stronger than you?"
"Well… I can't judge without fighting him to the end. The outcome will hinge on a slight difference."
Spartacus had also been training rigorously in Rome. He was significantly stronger than when he was in Capua.
Marcus was aware of this fact, which made the current situation all the more surprising.
"But losing would be problematic. My plan is based on the assumption of your victory. If you're going to lose, it's better not to fight at all."
Spartacus steeled himself and took a deep breath.
"Don't worry. Even if I have to sacrifice an arm or my life, I will win."
He knew he needed to match his friend's resolve with his own determination.
But Marcus frowned.
His voice, tinged with faint anger, cut through the air.
"You seem to have the wrong idea."
"Yes…?"
Spartacus flinched and asked, his tone tinged with confusion. Marcus had never reacted this way before.
"You won't lose even if you risk your life? Is your life worth only this struggle?"
"That, that is…"
"It's admirable to brace yourself to match your friend's resolve. But remember, risking your life is only for those who are truly facing the end, like Crixus."
Spartacus couldn't find an answer.
Of course, he wanted to win. But in battle, mental strength is as crucial as skill.
Crixus would fight with a resolve stronger than ever. Spartacus felt he needed to risk his life to match that resolve, believing no other motivation could fuel his fighting spirit more.
Even though Spartacus didn't voice it, Marcus read his thoughts from his expression.
"Good, it's perfect timing. I'll tell you why you must fight without getting hurt."
"But in a real battle, there are always variables…"
"That's why you must resolve not to allow any variables. Unless you want to make your wife sad."
"What do you mean…?"
Spartacus was momentarily stunned, confused by Marcus's last words. His doubt soon turned into passion, evident on his face.
Marcus spoke calmly.
"I received a report from Septimus before we left. He found someone who matches the description you gave."
"Did he find her? Really?"
"It's not confirmed yet. That's why I didn't tell you earlier. If it turned out not to be her, the disappointment would have been enormous. But if you need motivation, this is the best time."
Spartacus touched his forehead with trembling hands and took several deep breaths. He was eager to verify the truth immediately.
No matter how much time had passed or how she had changed, he was sure he would recognize her instantly.
"Where is she now?"
"Naples. You can visit her on your way back to Rome after the war. But you're not thinking of seeing her on a stretcher, are you?"
"I…"
"Come back in one piece. Be the hero of this war and reunite with your wife in style."
Spartacus's eyes, previously filled with intense emotion, now returned to their usual calm. The surge of feelings that had overwhelmed him subsided.
He lifted his head and gazed toward the northwest, where Naples lay. There was a cherished vow he had made with his wife, long ago.
"Thank you. Thanks to you, I've made up my mind for sure."
"You're finally back to your reliable self. I trust you completely now."
Marcus's voice carried a tone of satisfaction.
The aura emanating from Spartacus was completely different from before, even to Marcus, who was not an expert.
"I was wrong. Fighting is about continuing to live. The will to live is stronger than anything else."
"Yes. You're not meant to end as just a gladiator. Didn't I tell you when we first met? You still have many things to do."
"Yes. And I must meet her no matter what happens. So I promise you this: in the upcoming final battle with Crixus, I will dedicate the glory of a perfect victory to you, Young Master."
Spartacus firmly committed the reason he could never lose to his heart.
A fierce determination flared in his eyes, unwavering and intense.
The end.
The end of the two gladiators who chose different paths was imminent.
The wind, signaling the start of the final battle, stirred in the quiet night air.
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