{Notification: Legacy Threshold reached. Ready to unlock first [Legacy]}
{Choose Category: [Talent] or [Knowledge]}
Thomas's heart pounded, not from fear or excitement, but from a cold, sharp anticipation. This was a crucial moment. A choice that would determine his trajectory in this hell.
His mind raced. [Knowledge] was a powerful temptation, opening the path to the Essence of the nobles. It was a long game, a path to true power. (I haven't prepared the options for knowledge yet.)
But "long game" was a luxury he might not have.
Every day in the training yard was a gamble with his life. His physique, though much improved, was still that of a modern man, not a monster born to fight like Spartacus or Crixus. He survived by his wits and adaptability. To keep surviving, to keep accumulating Essence, he needed an immediate advantage. A real, tangible advantage in his muscles and bones.
With cold determination, he focused his intent on the first choice.
[Talent]
The panel changed again, displaying a more specific list.
{Available Talent Options:}
-[Talent] Rapid Adaptation: Significant improvement in the ability to learn and mimic physical movements. Accelerates stamina recovery and muscle adaptation to strenuous training.
-[Talent] Enhanced Senses: Increased sensitivity of sight, hearing, and smell within a close radius.
-[Talent] Raw Resilience: Increased resistance to pain and physical fatigue, allowing the body to function longer under extreme pressure.
{Choose one Talent to activate}
Thomas didn't hesitate. Enhanced Senses would be useful, but he was already a good observer. Raw Resilience would help him endure more torture, but it wouldn't make him fight better.
But Rapid Adaptation, that was everything. It was a power multiplier for his greatest asset: his brain. This talent wouldn't give him raw strength, but it would allow his brain to teach his body at an unnatural speed. It was the perfect bridge between his modern mind and the physical demands of this ancient world.
His intent locked onto the first choice. Select. Activate.
A strange, cold sensation spread from his chest. Not a crude wave of power, but like a bucket of ice water poured directly into his brain, sharpening every synapse, then flowing down to every muscle fiber. He felt a silent, deep "click," as if his body's entire operating system had just rebooted with new hardware.
The panel before him flickered for the last time that night.
{Legacy [Talent] Rapid Adaptation activated.}
{Stored Essence has been used.}
Then, the light faded, leaving Thomas alone in the darkness that now felt subtly different.
Dawn broke as brutally as ever. The thud of guard boots and harsh shouts roused the slaves. However, as Thomas forced himself up, something felt different. The pain and stiffness in his muscles from yesterday's training were still there, but they felt duller, more distant.
In the training yard, under Doctore's merciless gaze, hell began. A grueling running session on the hot sand. Usually, by the third lap, Thomas's lungs would feel like they were on fire. Today, the burning sensation came later. His breathing was deeper, more regular. He could feel his heart working with greater efficiency, pumping blood to his muscles, which felt more responsive. He completed the running session without the familiar dizzy sensation at the brink of his limits.
Then Doctore began to demonstrate a new technique. A complex attack combination: a feint thrust, followed by a body turn to evade a counter-attack, ending with a low slash targeting the back of the knee. The movements were fast, fluid, and deadly.
The senior gladiators attempted it with varying degrees of success. Thomas observed, but this time his observation was different. He wasn't just seeing a sequence of movements. His brain, now enhanced by Rapid Adaptation, broke the movement down into its basic components: Doctore's weight shift, his explosive hip rotation, the way his wrist flicked the sword at the last moment. He saw it not as a dance, but as a series of physics equations.
"Recruit! Try it!" Doctore commanded.
Varro, beside Thomas, tried and tripped over his own feet. The others were no better.
Then it was Thomas's turn. He stepped forward to the wooden post, cleared his mind, and let his new understanding take over. He performed the feint thrust, turned his body, and felt his core muscles tighten in a way that felt foreign yet right. His wooden sword hissed through the air and struck the lower part of the post with a solid THWACK.
His movements weren't as fast or powerful as Doctore's, but the sequence was correct. His balance was maintained.
A momentary silence fell over the nearby training area. Varro stared at him, mouth slightly open. Thomas could feel Doctore's gaze fixed on him from across the yard, a sharp, calculating stare that lasted a fraction of a second longer than usual. No praise, no acknowledgment. Just a cold observation.
I see you.
Thomas lowered his head, hiding the cold satisfaction that coursed through him. His investment had paid off. He was no longer just relying on tricks and wits to survive. Now, he had a foundation to build true power. He would learn. He would adapt. And he would grow, faster than anyone could have imagined.
The following days in the ludus turned into a personal laboratory for Thomas. The newly activated Legacy within him wasn't an explosive source of power, but a silent machine working tirelessly in the background, recalibrating the way he saw, moved, and learned. Every training session was no longer just torture to endure, but an opportunity to test the limits of his new abilities.
That morning, Doctore paired the gladiators for sparring practice. Usually, Thomas would be paired with another recruit or the lowest-tier gladiator. But today, Doctore's gaze lingered on him longer.
"You," Doctore said, his voice as flat as ever. "Fight Hamilcar."
Hamilcar, a veteran of the Punic Wars with a bored gaze, raised an eyebrow. He was a solid gladiator, not spectacular, but experienced and efficient, a perfect test. Varro looked at Thomas anxiously, but Thomas simply nodded and took his wooden sword and small shield.
The fight began. Hamilcar immediately pressed, using strength and experience to dominate. His attacks were simple but effective, a three-slash combination designed to test the opponent's defense before seeking an opening. Thomas, as usual, was on the defensive, parrying each strike, feeling the vibrations run up his arms.
However, something different happened. As Hamilcar repeated the same attack combination for the second time, Thomas's brain didn't just see three slashes. Thanks to Rapid Adaptation, he saw the pattern, the rhythm of his opponent's breathing, the nearly invisible shift in his weight before the third swing.
When the combination came for the third time, Thomas had already moved even before the second strike was finished. Instead of just parrying, he deflected the second slash with his shield, using his opponent's momentum to create a split-second opening. In that opening, he didn't counter-attack. Instead, he mimicked Doctore's movement from the day before, a feint thrust that forced Hamilcar to slightly adjust his stance.
Hamilcar frowned, slightly unsettled by the unexpected maneuver.
The fight continued, and its dynamics slowly shifted. Thomas was no longer just reacting. He began to anticipate. He studied the rhythm of Hamilcar's attacks, his favorite way to step, and the tilt of his head when preparing to strike. That information flowed into his mind and was immediately translated into counter-movements. He evaded a powerful swing, and as Hamilcar momentarily lost his balance, Thomas delivered a low slash towards his calf, an echo of his first fight in the ludus, but this time faster and more accurate.
Hamilcar jumped back, his bored eyes now showing surprise. This recruit, who should have been easily defeated, now felt like quicksand, adapting to his every move.
The climax came when Hamilcar, out of frustration, lunged forward with a powerful overhead slash. Thomas ducked beneath it, and instead of trying to counter-attack, he used the pommel of his sword to strike Hamilcar's weapon-holding wrist.
CLACK!
Hamilcar's wooden sword flew from his grip and fell into the sand. Silence fell over their small arena. Hamilcar stared at his tingling hand, then at Thomas, with a mixed expression of disbelief and a hint of reluctant respect.
"Enough!" Doctore called out. The fight was over. Thomas hadn't won dominantly, but he had done something more important: he had proven he was no longer an opponent to be underestimated.
As they rested after the brutal session, Varro approached him, his eyes sparkling.
"By Jupiter, Thomas! What did they give you for breakfast?" he whispered. "I've never seen you move like that. You were like dancing around Hamilcar."
Thomas smiled faintly, wiping sweat from his forehead. "Perhaps Doctore's whip finally managed to embed something in my bones," he replied, an easily believable lie. He couldn't reveal the true source of his power, not even to his friend.
His eyes then swept the training yard. Rapid Adaptation didn't just sharpen his physical abilities, but also his perception. He saw everything more clearly. He saw a group of Gaulish gladiators glaring at Spartacus, who was training alone, their hatred so palpable it could almost be felt. In another corner, he saw Ashur talking to one of the guards, a small coin changing hands with a quick, secret movement. And above, from the balcony, Lucretia observed them all, her face a mask of perfect composure, yet her intelligent eyes missed nothing.
That night, after another routine transaction arranged by Ashur yielded him two more Essence, Thomas lay in his cell. He felt a cold, pragmatic satisfaction. Rapid Adaptation worked better than he had expected. It was the perfect tool.
A tool that would keep him alive.
But simply being alive wasn't enough. Surviving by collecting two Essence every few nights was too slow a process. He had seen the wealth displayed at Batiatus's parties. He had seen the nobles and noblewomen. That was where the real source of Essence lay. Category 3, Category 4.
His first Legacy had given him the key to survive in the arena. Now, he had to use his intelligence to unlock a different door. A door to the private chambers and hidden gardens of Batiatus's villa. He had to capture Lucretia's attention, not as a crude gladiator, but as something else. Something unique. Something intriguing.
His performance in the training arena today was a start.
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{Name: Thomas Vance}
{Stored Essence: 2}
{Active Legacy: [Talent] Rapid Adaptation}