Reality isn't a novel; a person's aura can't be faked.
Gaius Octavian wasn't stupid!
Even if he didn't know much about Lista Night's background, that noble bearing alone convinced him the man could back up the bet.
Taking a deep breath, trembling all over, he said seriously,
"I can't make that call myself. Wait here; I have to ask my friends first."
"Then hurry. They're already introducing the fighters down there."
Any slower and the fight would be over; no bookmaker accepts mid-battle bets.
Gaius Octavian fled as if his life depended on it.
His mind was blank; he no longer cared about dignity.
His whole body shook.
Twenty talents!!
As a member of an equestrian family that had only recently begun climbing into high society thanks to his father, the Octavii didn't actually have that much accumulated wealth.
Twenty talents? They definitely had it somewhere, but taking out that much in one go would cripple even their household.
Even the Pompeys or Caesars, those great families, would feel the sting.
Yet when that Lista Night spoke, it was as if he wasn't talking about talents of gold, but twenty aurei at most.
No, no, even twenty aurei would already be a high-stakes bet, the kind only the elite played.
A sum this enormous, with real money on the line, left Gaius Octavian no room for slacking.
He frantically ran back to his companions.
When Gnaeus Pompey saw his new little lackey return with two bright-red palm prints blazing on his cheeks, the young heir who had been calmly drinking among the circle of young nobles instantly darkened.
"Who did it?" Gnaeus Pompey didn't explode; he asked coldly and calmly.
But Gaius Octavian was completely oblivious to how pathetic he looked right now and hurriedly explained the betting situation to Pompey.
After hearing that little Lord Caesar wanted in on the action, and that there was actually a young noble willing to stake "twenty talents" on the strength of his family name alone,
A flash of surprise crossed Gnaeus Pompey's eyes.
That arrogant?
He had been away campaigning with Lord Sulla for years and hadn't been back in Rome for a long time.
Since when did such a young, powerful noble appear?
Lista?
The name sounded vaguely familiar.
Wait.
Gnaeus Pompey suddenly remembered, and his expression changed.
Wasn't this the surname of Rome's last heroic family?
The very family that, back when his father was young, had inflicted a devastating loss on the Pompeys, nearly crippling them?
No wonder the man was so confident.
The moment he heard the name "Lista," he would accept the bet.
To the Pompey family, those three syllables were a nightmare they never wanted to hear again.
An open scandal known to every member of Rome's upper crust.
Gnaeus Pompey's face gradually returned to calm, his eyes deep and unreadable, but only he himself knew what kind of raging inferno was burning inside him right now.
He was a proud man.
A man with enormous ambition.
Unlike his father who stayed neutral, he had chosen early to pledge himself to Sulla's faction, all so he could climb higher.
History had proven that if you picked the right moment and backed the right man, like Sempronius Gracchus supporting the elder Scipio and rocketing up to become consul, the same could happen to you.
Pompey refused an ordinary life.
A proud, ambitious man naturally had greater pride than most.
Toward the man who, in his father's generation, had brought the Pompey family to its knees and indirectly damaged his own political qualifications by tarnishing the family name, Pompey naturally harbored no goodwill.
This was an opportunity.
Twenty talents for free. Why not take the bet?
However, just Pompey was about to tell Gaius Octavian to go back and say they accepted....he stopped.
Because it seemed like an obvious trap.
So, Pompey did not speak up immediately.
However as he was pondering about what to do, the arena manager below the stands had already begun introducing Spartacus's record.
A Thracian warrior who had previously achieved astonishing results in local arenas, and was thus sent to the central city to compete, but this was indeed his debut match without a doubt.
He really is a newcomer.
This was the territory under that old fox Crassus, and Pompey knew that man well.
He would not falsify such a record.
A newcomer who had performed merely "decently" in the provinces, there was nothing worth paying attention to.
The Storm King could even tear apart a powerful Spartan warrior in this very arena who had a ten-win streak.
He did not believe that a monstrous rookie king would appear so easily.
Having enough courage and boldness, and able to afford the bet of twenty talents, Pompey finally made up his mind: "Tell him that I accept this wager!
The one from the Caesar family as well.
Since someone is delivering money to me, there's no reason to refuse!
But this counts as a private bet between him and me alone!"
If it were normal odds, given Spartacus's current popularity, if he really won, Pompey would have to pay ten times the amount.
Even he would not dare to bet like that. If it was just a simple private wager, he could still afford to lose it alone.
Better safe than sorry, after all.
And after receiving Pompey's approval,
Gaius Octavius did not dare to slack off.
Perhaps Pompey's support gave him confidence.
He was determined to make the Caesar family see clearly that Lista Night was just an amateur novice who fundamentally didn't understand gladiators.
When the Caesar family lost money because they trusted him, especially Lista Night himself losing a full twenty talents, if the opponent won, then his image would instantly become radiant and glorious, but if the opponent lost, it would only make him look like a blindly arrogant idiot.
A noble young lady of the Caesar family would never take a fancy to such an overconfident gambling madman.
Convinced that Night would most likely lose, Gaius Octavius walked with extra vigor in his steps, already impatient to see his embarrassed appearance.
And when Gaius Octavius returned, the contestants below had already begun to enter the arena.
Upon learning that the bet was established, little Caesar, Julia, and Atia all took deep breaths, their moods somewhat agitated and excited.
Having grown up this long, they had never seen such a massive wager before.
Their blood was boiling.
The beastly nature in the bones of Romans made them love this kind of thrill.
Of course, after winning money, this feeling would undergo a chemical reaction in an instant, making them feel even more exhilarated.
Inevitably, Caesar and the others became a little nervous, filled with both anticipation and worry.
But when they noticed Night's expression at that moment, their moods involuntarily calmed down.
At this time, the young man was sitting quietly, his gaze simply fixed on a gate below in the arena where the iron bars had just been lifted.
He could feel a powerful aura like that of a ferocious beast emanating from within.
The next moment, roar~!!
First, the brown bear on the opposite side stepped back onto the battlefield, and the arena instantly erupted with countless frenzied screams and cheers, as well as shouts urging the Storm King to continue tearing that Thracian warrior to shreds like a storm.
They craved to see blood!!
They craved to witness slaughter, to see humans torn limb from limb by beasts.
It was in this entrance that no one had any expectations for that a dragging sound of foot chains slowly rang out.
From the dark maw that seemed ready to devour anyone, the next moment, a tall, lean, and imposing figure clad in leather armor slowly stepped into the arena.
.
.
.