Chapter 3 Training with the Gladiators

Every day has been a living hell for me. We march at dawn for 20 Roman Miles, equivalent to 36 km, in full gear with a 30 kg weight on our backs. At noon, we practice our spear-throwing skills, and they give us a wooden pilum twice as heavy as the normal one. After this, we practice our formation and swordsmanship. This part of the training was the easiest for me, as the Roman legion only practices one sword move: the stab. But even my little peace of mind would be broken after our first month of training. As someone who grew up in a relatively safe and peaceful environment, I wasn't able to adjust fast. Even now, I still pray at night that all of this was only a dream and that I'll wake up in a hospital bed, but it didn't happen.

I need to let go of my past timeline and focus on this era. I'm no longer James Moore; I'm Julius Titus, an Immunes who specializes in the logistics of the Legion. The faster I forget the luxury I had back then, the greater my chances of survival in this timeline.

"Julius!" As I was on a break from my training, I heard a loud shout, and when I turned around, I saw Spartacus. We've become really good friends since we're both the youngest recruits in the 1st cohort. "Julius! Julius! Have you heard? The 10th Legion, led by General Gaius Caesar, has successfully repelled the Gauls in the northwest of the empire!"

As a Roman Empire history nerd, I knew about this event, so I wasn't really surprised. I just nodded and acknowledged it. "Fuck, Julius! I want to march alongside General Gaius and join his conquest. I could already grasp the glory I would achieve!" I just smirked at Spartacus and said, "Spartacus, war isn't as romantic as you're imagining it. You're only thinking about the result and not the process. You're still young and don't know the horrors of war." Spartacus looked at me blankly and said, "Fuck you, Julius, and your philosophy. Are you sure you're not Roman, but Greek? No wonder I'm your only friend at camp." I was stunned, but I couldn't rebuke him.

I live in an era of peace. I was taught about the horrors of war through classes and documentaries. Spartacus doesn't have the privilege of this kind of information; that's why he's acting this way. I could only smirk at him as he left.

After a month of training and marching, our trainer gathered us for some announcements. "You guys have worked hard for the glory of Rome, but it's not enough. Starting tomorrow, you'll be having mock fights with selected gladiators to prepare you for actual combat. Be prepared, as weapons don't have eyes and ears. We don't want any deaths, but we also don't condone them." After the announcement, our trainer left.

Once I heard this, fear started creeping inside of me. I was shaking. I wanted to run away, but where? Rome is my only chance of survival. I must live! I caught a glimpse of Spartacus; he was raving and excited to test his abilities out. I could only sigh in frustration.

As usual, we marched for 20 Roman Miles and did our spear-throwing and swordsmanship training. But today was a little different. After the formation training, we were gathered in an area. It was time for our duel with the gladiators. Slowly, our trainer walked out of the gate followed by 10 gladiators, fully armed with bloodlust in their eyes. These gladiators were old, having survived countless battles because of their age and the glory they earned at the Colosseum. They were given the chance for freedom in exchange for their time to teach us combat experience.

One by one, we were lined up in preparation for the duel. Then, when we were all lined up, suddenly a vigorous legionnaire recruit shouted his name, "Marcus Felix," and taunted the gladiators. Gladiators are seen as lower-class people; they are labeled as commodities for entertainment; they are slaves. So, Marcus was taunting them not to get into their heads, but because he genuinely thinks that they are of a lower class than him. Most of the gladiators are war slaves, former soldiers of the annexed kingdoms that Rome conquered.

A gladiator stood up and slowly walked into the dueling ring. It was a Gallus, a type of gladiator who is a former soldier of the Gaul tribes captured by the Romans. I could tell because of his Gaulish-style armor; they usually wear heavy armor with a sword and shield.

As the duel was about to begin, our trainer said, "Satus!" And immediately, Marcus used the testudos formation and slowly crept toward the gladiator. The gladiator only stood there motionless, as if he had given up and was just waiting for his end. Because of this, Marcus grew confident and just ran at the gladiator like a barbarian. He let go of the testudos formation and charged...

Marcus was about to stab him, but suddenly signs of life started to appear in the gladiator. He effortlessly parried the stab like it was done by a child and immediately followed with a bash with his shield at Marcus's face. Marcus stumbled at the unexpected counter and fell down. He shouted at the gladiator, "How dare you, slave, to hit a Roman citizen!" The gladiator did not say anything, but I could guess he was smirking inside his helmet. Without any pity, the gladiator kicked Marcus's sword away from him and started his brutal lesson to Marcus. The gladiator proceeded to beat the hell out of him.

Marcus was about to complain about his sword when the gladiator kicked him in the face and bashed his shield at Marcus whenever he tried to stand up. This was torture. All of us recruits thought that whenever Marcus was about to announce his surrender, the gladiator would beat him to it and either punch or bash him with his shield. It only stopped when Marcus was unconscious from all the beating he received.

Then, the gladiator stared coldly at all of the recruits, as if he saw in us the legionnaires who wiped out his tribe and captured him to be sold as a slave at the Colosseum for their entertainment. He doesn't know how many people he has killed in the Colosseum—numerous men from all around the Mediterranean, Africa, and even people from his own tribe. He killed to survive. After a few minutes, he started to head back to the other gladiators. The once lively atmosphere of the recruits was immediately shut down, and fear started to creep inside them.