Slave Rebellion (2)

Marcus' prediction was correct.

Crixus easily defeated the riot forces dispatched from Capua and took away their arms, growing into a huge group of bandits.

The Capuan government eventually asked for assistance from Rome when it was in a situation that it could not help.

But even then, Rome looked down on the slave army too much.

Glaber, who led 3,000 recruits, not regular legionnaires, was not good at adapting to the occasion.

He planned to block the way up to Mount Vesuvius and gradually drive in the slave forces and eradicate them.

It was not a wrong decision; faithful to the standard.

However, Glaber, who showed off his victory, should have paid more attention to the rear.

Crixus made a rope from wild grape vines, descended the cliff, and went around the rear of the Roman army.

The Roman army, which judged that the enemy would only be in the front, was completely caught off guard.

He was so relieved they didn't even post a proper sentry in the rear.

In return, the Roman army was exposed to the slave army's surprise attack without any preparation.

Crixus and his colleagues ravaged the Roman army mercilessly like wolves sweeping the flock.

"Let's kill all the Romans!"

"What! Didn't you say the enemy was in front of you? It's not what I heard!"

The Roman army, which they unexpectedly attacked at night, collapsed without properly swinging its sword.

More than a hundred surprise troops cut down two or three each, and in an instant, nearly 300 Roman troops' blood embroidered the floor.

"Do not panic! Line up! Enemies are nothing but slaves and bandits! Build formations as you have been trained!"

The cries of the centurion who tried to command somehow were mere screams as no one listened.

Crixus, who broke through the enemy lines with tremendous speed, preferentially cut only those who appeared to be commanders.

When the blood of his enemies gushed over his head in the vanguard, the gladiators running behind him attacked the demoralized Roman soldier and created a mountain of corpses.

"Run away!"

"It's not just a slave! I haven't heard anything like this!"

Fear spread among the untrained soldiers.

In particular, Crixus, who slaughtered nearly dozens of soldiers alone, looked almost like a devil to Roman soldiers.

No matter how much blood was covered, the vivid red stood out even in the middle of the night.

It had savagely broken the Legion's morale.

There is no way that the resistance of the soldiers who recalled defeat will be strong.

"Ahh!"

"Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh"!

The soldiers who came out of the barracks belatedly ran away without even thinking about forming ranks.

Their morale was so low that they threw away even the Aquila, the standard of the Legion.

Glaber, distraught, sent the order to retreat only after the death toll was close to 1,000.

"Hu, retreat! Full army retreat!"

However, it was a surprise attack from the back, and it took work to retreat because the front was a steep mountain road.

The gladiators also did not look at the fleeing Roman soldiers.

In particular, Crixus, the commander-in-chief, stepped forward and swung his sword more tenaciously than anyone else.

A soldier threw down his weapon and surrendered, but Crixus snorted and blew his throat.

He shouted in a voice that flashed with murderous intent and hatred.

"There is no need for surrender! Kill, kill, kill! Let's dye this mountain with the blood of the Romans!"

"Wooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooh!"

The response, covered with madness, came like a wave.

Only then did the Roman soldiers realize.

They are not fighting to win the war.

Gladiators fight to kill every single Roman soldier.

The sound of cuts and broken bones echoed throughout the mountain.

The blood that moistened the ground continued to increase, eventually forming a large puddle.

There are those who barely escaped with their lives because the Roman army outnumbered the slave army.

The bloody slaughter, not the battle, continued until the two-legged Romans were out of sight.

Crixus, who won a great victory, had his men collect all the supplies left by the Roman army.

"We've been running out of weapons, armor, and food, but this battle will give us a breather."

Ashre, a fellow gladiator who escaped from Kapua together, came to the side and smiled.

"Since you destroyed the Romans very properly, Oenomaus should finally be able to sleep comfortably."

"Yes, I hope so."

Oenomaus, who played a leading role in escaping slaves with Crixus, was killed by an arrow while fleeing to Vesuvius.

Crixus himself cut the shooter off the arrow, but he did not think he had taken proper revenge.

Even now, having killed a thousand Roman soldiers, he was not completely satisfied.

Ashre shook his head and bit his lips as if he was sorry for it.

"If Spartacus was with you...…."

"Never bring up his story!"

Crixus decisively cut Ashre's words.

He warned again in a stern tone.

"He is a guy who goes to Rome and lives his own life. That traitor has nothing to do with us, so don't ever mention his name!"

"All right."

"Remember! Spartacus is not a gladiator of Capua. I don't know if he escapes from Rome and joins us, but before that he's just a traitor. Tell the other colleagues again. Those who miss the traitor will be regarded as enemy spies who are trying to divide us."

"I'm sorry, my thoughts were short."

Ashre apologized, bowing his head obediently.

Come to think of it, Crixus was right a hundred times.

No matter how much he used to be a spiritual pillar leading gladiator in the past, he is now nothing more than a traitor who sold himself to gold.

It made him angry that he still believed he was on the same side.

He went straight to deliver Crixus' words to other colleagues.

Crixus, who was left alone, smiled as if he was lying about his anger a moment ago.

Sitting on a moderately flat rock, he looked up at the moon in the sky.

"In Rome, where you are, the moon must be shining brightly."

Crixus gulped down the diluted wine he found in Glaber's luggage.

After a fierce battle, the cool touch of wine riding over the neck was indescribably refreshing.

"You'll probably get angry when you meet. Why couldn't you wait? There was nothing I could do. I can't be like you. So you want to continue living your life there. Yes, you will become the sun that shines even brighter than that moon."

Spartacus believed in the future and made a choice, but Crixus was different.

He chose the present, not the uncertain future.

He doesn't have fanciful thoughts that he can destroy Rome.

No matter how good they are, they lose. This was an unavoidable fate.

But losing didn't matter.

Crixus is just trying to prove this by killing one more Roman.

It is the fact that they are not the trash that can be trampled on mercilessly.

The fact that they also have teeth to bite them off.

He couldn't wish for anything more if he could burn this life to give Rome even the slightest warning.

"But that shouldn't bother you."

No matter how faithful you are to your convictions, it would be best if you did not block the path of your close friends.

Spartacus was declared a traitor to his subordinates because he judged that it was for him to cut off the relationship completely.

Even if the paths diverged, if they moved in the direction they believed in each other, that's all.

Crixus shook his head, laughing at himself for talking to himself differently than usual.

"I'm not even drunk, but I'm strangely sentimental. Is it because I won with the knowledge I learned from you?"

Crixus knew himself well. Although he has a fighter's talent, he lacks a commander's ability.

So he constantly reflected on what he had learned from Spartacus.

What kind of tactics would he have used if he were here?

What methods did he use to counter the enemy?

If he hadn't done this, he wouldn't have even thought of going down the cliff by weaving vines.

The two close friends who have always been by his side are no longer next to him, but what he received from their remains.

Crixus vowed not to stop until the day he ran out of breath.

Even though he knows he won't reach it, he reaches out to the moon in the sky and clenches his fist.

It filled his hand with a firm determination that he would not regret it, no matter the outcome.

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