Unaware of his two maids, who were so lovesick they were practically laying eggs like turtles and harboring ulterior motives, Night had already arrived at the slave market.
The one receiving him this time was the same slave trader as before.
Upon hearing that Night wanted to purchase a large number of Spartans—
The slave trader was shocked as he spoke. "What do you need so many Spartan warriors for?
You're not planning to build a private army, are you?"
Night didn't deny it and nodded calmly.
"You guessed right."
Slave Trader: "…! *Cough cough!* Please, don't joke like that. Building a private army is illegal."
"Don't the nobles all have private soldiers?"
"Heh… As you said, those are noble private soldiers.
Nobles, of course, have special privileges—
Our Roman laws can't control those high and mighty lords."
However, in response to his words, when Night just smiled and said,
"Don't I look like a noble to you?'
The slave trader was stunned for a moment…
Well, although he had only done business with Night once and didn't know his true identity, he had initially judged him based on his appearance.
To be honest, he had already suspected that the young man in front of him might be a noble.
He was already a handsome young man to begin with, and now, after another trip through the simulated universe, Night's refined aura carried an added laNightr of commanding presence, like that of a superior.
The slave trader only glanced at him before instinctively lowering his head.
…!!
This wasn't just noble-like; he'd even believe if the man in front of him was a foreign prince!
Ordinary people could never possess such a distinguished air.
"Like!!! Too much like one!"
"However, I really don't have that much stock here.
If you truly want Spartan warriors, I can introduce you to Lord Crassus's private venue for a look.
I heard that Lord Crassus recently acquired quite a few Spartan warriors. Of course—there's the introduction fee." The slave trader rubbed his hands, flashing a fawning smile.
"Lead the way!" Night's interest was piqued, especially after hearing Crassus's name.
When he first confirmed he had arrived in the Roman era, he had even considered borrowing money from this big fat sheep.
Although he wasn't short on money now, it depended on who he was comparing himself to.
The entire Roman treasury combined probably didn't have as much wealth as Crassus.
For a merchant to become one of the Roman triumvirs through sheer wealth wasn't just a matter of being rich, it was being outrageously rich.
Night trusted that someone like him would have good stock.
So, under the slave trader's guidance, he soon arrived at a gladiatorial arena.
Since it was his first time here, the gatekeeper even asked for an introducer or the like.
Although with Lucius Caesar's influence, Night could probably easily secure a ticket to Crassus's arena if he asked, the slave trader's direct escort saved time and effort.
When he reached the audience seats of the open-air arena, he was greeted by a cacophony of cheers and roars.
Some men and women, caught up in the excitement, were even passionately kissing each other.
Below, a robust gladiator was battling a brown bear.
The gladiator, outmatched in strength, was pinned to the ground, his head savagely bitten and torn by the beast.
The gruesome sight of blood splattering everywhere sent the surrounding Romans into a frenzy of excited screams.
Night watched the scene below and some memories stirred in his mind.
When he first arrived in this world, he was the one down there, gawked at by a crowd of wealthy spectators.
Now, he had become one of the vile Roman nobles, sitting in the audience.
As the gladiator below was mauled to death by the beast, the crowd showed no pity, instead growing even more thrilled, screaming with excitement.
Soon—
Staff came out to clear the arena and loudly announced that the next gladiatorial match was about to begin!!
The death of the gladiator seemed routine here, with no one sparing it a second thought.
After all, countless beasts and slave gladiators lost their lives here every day.
"Next, for the upcoming match, we have our mighty Storm King, the Lord of Bear Ridge!
And his opponent—a rookie gladiator, a robust Thracian warrior—his name is… Spartacus!!!
Let's cheer for the brave warrior about to challenge the Storm King!"
As the staff's words fell, the audience erupted in cheers, the atmosphere instantly electric.
But some were unimpressed.
The Storm King, of course, was the brown bear from earlier.
Due to its brutal, bloody fighting style and terrifying strength, many gladiators had already died by its paws, earning it such a grandiose title among the Romans.
But the opponent was just a no-name rookie, which prompted boos from parts of the crowd.
It seemed the audience already assumed the rookie would be torn apart, with no chance of victory.
But Night froze when the staff announced the name of the man below.
Who?!
A Thracian, a slave gladiator, named Spartacus.
The Spartacus who declared,
"I'd rather die fighting for freedom on the battlefield than perish in the arena for the amusement of noble lords?"
The man who, bare-handed, led a group of slave gladiators, armed only with stolen kitchen forks and knives, to break out of their cages, seize weapon carts, and escape.
The man who, with fewer than a hundred followers, ran dozens of kilometers on foot, rebelled at Mount Vesuvius, defeated two successive consuls' armies, marched along the coast through all of Italy, crushed the local governor's forces, and nearly led his men south to destroy the Senate—the true man, Spartacus?
If Night's memory was correct, of the Roman triumvirs, aside from Caesar, who was still a lawNightr and hadn't Nightt risen to prominence, the other two, Pompey and Crassus, were both involved in the war to suppress Spartacus.
In some movies, even Caesar was depicted as joining the campaign, disguising himself as a slave to infiltrate Spartacus's rebel army.
A man targeted by the three triumvirs.
While this didn't prove Spartacus's military genius surpassed the triumvirs, he undoubtedly died with the greatest honor.
Why would he be here, in this era?
Especially in Crassus's gladiatorial arena, of all places.
A trace of surprise flashed across Night's face, though he wasn't particularly familiar with the exact timelines of various events in this Roman era. Regardless of why Spartacus was here,
He was now more intrigued and interested in one thing: if this was that Spartacus, what were the chances he could recruit him?
Throughout Roman history, if the victorious Romans were the just protagonists, then Spartacus, like Hector from the Trojan War, was an antagonist with immense personal charisma.
They were among the rare villains who felt more like protagonists than the actual heroes.
Both possessed noble character, courage, wisdom, and a remarkably upright stance.
If this was truly Spartacus—
Given his personality, he wouldn't stay dormant here for long, would he?
Perhaps he was already planning to rally the gladiators and break out of Rome!
.
.
.