Two weeks passed in the blink of an eye.
During those two weeks, Septimus had experienced for the first time what it felt like to die in the most brutal way possible. At first, those memories brought him nightmares, but after experiencing several deaths in a row, his willpower grew stronger.
Now Septimus, along with 12 clones, was heading to the underground arena. Although the deaths of his clones inflicted terrible torture on him, the bloody battles awakened his bloodthirsty side.
Septimus brought 10 clones to the underground arena and two clones as bodyguards to keep up appearances.
Underground Arena
"Hahaha, you've come again, young Septimus, and I see you've brought fresh meat," said the man with a pockmarked face, laughing.
His name was Gaudas. He was a Numidian and was in charge of the underground arena. At first, he was surprised that Septimus offered him slaves for the arena. Most of those who fight in the arena are gladiators or desperate for money, but he accepted anyway.
Having been in this business for many years, he knew that people weren't very interested in seeing a fair and honest fight; they just wanted to see blood and bet accordingly.
Gaudas didn't pay much attention to Septimus' actions. He wasn't the only slave owner who punished or got rid of his disobedient slaves. He had also seen slave owners with perverse tastes who enjoyed watching or hurting their slaves, but he wasn't interested in any of that.
"I've come to register 10 slaves for combat," Septimus said as he approached.
"All right, the rules are the same. Pay 20 denarii in total," Gaudas replied calmly.
After Septimus made the payment for the 10 clones, they prepared to enter the arena. Thanks to their training at the ludus and the experience of seeing the blood of dead clones fighting in the underground arena, their combat skills had improved.
Although he still could not guarantee a sure victory, his clones were not so defenseless.
Amidst the shouts and curses of the crowd, the 10 clones entered the underground arena one by one.
Septimus frowned slightly. Each clone that died fighting in that cruel underground arena added to his combat experience, but it was still a little painful to feel the brutality of death firsthand.
After three hours of intense fighting and the euphoric shouts of the crowd, the ten clones had died in the arena after defeating four experienced fighters.
Although Septimus felt somewhat disappointed, at first his clones were like chickens being led to the slaughter, easily killed. However, with each combat experience in the arena, the clones' fighting skills steadily improved.
In ancient times, a veteran soldier with combat experience was considered a valuable resource for any nation, because such soldiers had survived wars and years of training. Septimus, with his ability to replicate, could raise an army loyal entirely to him.
After seeing that the fights were over, Septimus headed home.
On his way home, he heard noises coming from a dark alley.
"Come on, bitch, take off your clothes. If you behave and satisfy us, we won't hurt you."
Septimus frowned as he heard a woman crying while three men tried to rape her.
From the girl's clothing, he could tell she belonged to the Roman upper class; the three men were just drunks.
Septimus and his clones drew their pugios, ancient Roman daggers.
They lunged at the three thugs from behind. The first clone slit one thug's throat, the second drove his pugio into another's liver, and Septimus, kicking the thug who was holding the girl from behind, threw himself at him.
Seeing the ferocity with which these men—who had appeared out of nowhere—were acting, the last thug snapped sober from the shock. When he raised his hand in surrender, he was met with stabbing blows to the chest from Septimus and another clone.
Septimus approached the girl, who was crying on the ground, while his two clones searched the bodies for anything of value. Yes, Septimus was interested in looting these drunks. In Rome, although it was a society rife with crime, criminals were usually tied to larger gangs; attacking them without justification would only bring the revenge of those thugs.
Even though Septimus was not afraid of a few thugs, these criminal bands were the black gloves of Roman nobles or elites, with senators from Capua backing them.
"Waaah, thank you for saving me. My name is Atilia Fausta," Atilia said, wiping the tears from her face after the scare.
She had gone to the market with her entourage, but out of caprice she had separated from them, causing this incident.
"My name is Septimus Novius. As a Roman citizen, it is my duty to help when necessary," Septimus said to the young woman.
Atilia wiped away her tears, and when she saw this young man of sixteen or seventeen with an attractive face, she felt somewhat moved.
Septimus also took in the young woman. She seemed to be about his age and was a beauty still coming into her own; it was no surprise that those thugs had tried to rape her.
"It isn't safe for you to be alone. I'll take you home," Septimus said to Atilia.
"All right, I'll guide you," Atilia said as Septimus helped her to her feet.
As he helped Atilia, Septimus could feel that she voluntarily pressed her entire body close to his.
Following Atilia's directions, they left the secluded alley and headed toward the Forum of Capua, which was close to Atilia's residence.
After walking for a few minutes, Septimus felt relieved. Although he had killed those thugs to defend a noble lady, he didn't want to waste time dealing with the city guard.
"I am the daughter of Marcus Atilius Severus, a member of the concilium of Capua. I promise you my father will reward you generously for saving me," Atilia said, watching Septimus with shining eyes.
"I was just passing by. I couldn't stand by and watch a beautiful young lady be harmed," Septimus replied, looking at Atilia with a faint smile.
As they neared Atilia's house, they saw a group of guards and slaves with a beautiful middle-aged woman who was screaming at the slaves like a harpy.
"How could you lose her?! If anything happens to her, all of you will be crucified!" the beautiful middle-aged woman shouted hysterically at the slaves.
As Septimus and his group approached, the guards noticed the young Atilia.
"Domina, the young lady is there," one of the guards said, pointing at Atilia.
"Atilia!!!" the woman cried out, running over and examining Atilia.
Seeing traces of tears on her face, she looked at Septimus with hostility.
"Guards, arrest these men!" the woman shouted hysterically, pointing at Septimus and his group.
At the sound of the shout, Septimus's expression changed. Both he and his clones drew their pugios, while the guards drew their gladii, preparing to fight.
"Stop, Mother! They are my saviors," Atilia said urgently, seeing the situation spiral out of control.
The beautiful middle-aged woman frowned upon hearing her daughter's cry and ordered the guards to lower their weapons, listening to her daughter's explanation.
"I wish to apologize to you, young savior. My name is Cornelia Prisca; I am Atilia's mother," Cornelia said kindly to Septimus.
Seeing that the misunderstanding had been cleared up, Septimus and his clones sheathed their weapons.
"My name is Septimus Novius," Septimus replied calmly.
He did not plan to establish much contact with this Roman noble family. Although Atilia was beautiful, upper-class Roman women were known for deceiving their husbands. It was fine to have a few sexual encounters, but Septimus had no intention of taking a noble wife; he only expected to receive the reward.
With his ability, he did not need a noble wife to help him with connections or influence.