B2 Chapter 62: Place Your Bets

Quintus shifted his grip on the gladius in his hand as he stood. He was unable to move his right leg more than a few inches at a time or put much weight on it. Three enemies still stood before him, two of them almost entirely unhurt. The thraex's body still lay unmoving in the sand nearby, the hole in its chest apparently enough to have taken it out of the battle. Then again, that was what he'd assumed about the retiarius with its nearly severed leg—and that assumption had cost him.

He scanned the arena and spotted his spear laying forgotten on the ground. But it was too far away from his position to be of any use right now. Nor would he be able to retrieve his shield without making himself vulnerable, especially not if he wanted to untangle it from the net.

The centurion's eyes narrowed. The murmillo and secutor before him bore heavy shields and, compared to the others, were relatively well-armored. One relied on endurance to carry him to victory, while the other tried to end fights quickly in order to avoid being tired out.

Under normal circumstances, Quintus would have felt comfortable leading them around the arena to exhaust them. Then, he'd be able to take advantage and finish them off one by one. But there was no telling if the automatons would tire like real humans would. Not to mention his own current handicap.

His only saving grace was how full of holes their teamwork was. He'd suspected as much at the start, but now he was confident—the enemies before him were not a team. [Group Tactics] had given him even greater insight into their coordination or lack thereof. True, they worked together to herd him around and control his movements, but their attacks did little more than simply take advantage of openings as they came. None of the enemies struck in order to offer their allies opportunities or set up feints to corner him.

That inclination was something he could make use of. Given the opportunity, he could sense that the opponents wouldn't hesitate to take him on one at a time. If he could just set up the right circumstances…

He tested his right leg again, wincing as he put a fraction of his weight on it. He twirled his sword idly in thought as the two mobile gladiators carefully approached him. [Sure Footing] was keeping him upright, but it wouldn't help him walk. That he felt certain of. [Swordsmastery] would certainly help him, but would it be enough to neutralize the massive shields his opponents carried? He could try and hack his way through them with [Heavy Blow] and [Stab], but would it be enough? True, he'd punctured through one already, but he wouldn't be leaping into the air again anytime soon.

Quintus's mind raced as he stoically faced the two gladiators. Time was running out. If he wanted to win, he'd need to make a bit of a gamble.

He crouched and let his arm drop slightly, the tip of his sword digging into the sand. When the murmillo drew near enough to lash out with its blade, he flicked his own up in an attempt to blind his opponent once again. The automaton, having learned from his ally's experience, blocked the spray with its shield. But that was what Quintus had been hoping for.

In the instant that the gladiator's vision was obscured, Quintus suddenly fell even lower into his crouch. His hand snaked out and grabbed onto the shinguard wrapped around the thing's left leg as it stepped. Bracting, Quintus pulled, gritting his teeth as his own leg flared in protest. The murmillo stumbled, suddenly off-balance.

It didn't relent though. The murmillo reacted quickly, moving to slam its shield down on Quintus's exposed wrist. He released his grip and rolled sideways as best he could to avoid the blow, lashing out with his sword as he moved. The murmillo hopped in place to avoid having its unguarded right ankle sliced clean off. In that brief opening, the centurion finished his roll and came up to one knee inside the murmillo's guard. His free arm wrapped around its waist. Bracing himself, Quintus pushed his shoulder into the thing, pushing off with his injured leg to gain more leverage.

There was a brief tearing sensation. Quintus narrowly managed to avoid screaming in pain as he forced both himself and his foe to the ground. He immediately dropped his sword to grab the sword arm of the murmillo, twisting it before it had a chance to run him through. He twisted like an eel, rolling to put the enemy atop him just as the still-standing secutor slashed down with a heavy blow. A dull clang echoed through the arena as the gladius deflected off the murmillo's helmet.

A blow like that would daze any man. But at this point, Quintus wasn't going to rely on a human response from these things. Instead, he writhed like an eel controlling the warrior's limbs and using him as a shield to intercept the secutor's downward stabs. Fortunately, it didn't seem to have much compunction about hurting its ally—not if doing so would allow it to get in a blow against Quintus.

The murmillo struggled above him, caught between the attacks of its ally and Quintus's attempts to disarm it. The heavy shield still strapped to his arm allowed Quintus to force it into awkward positions that would risk breaking the elbow and really damage its maneuverability. But every time it attempted to ditch the piece of equipment, Quintus was right there to foil its efforts.

Eventually, the secutor managed to find an opening. Its heavy sandal struck the centurion square in the ribs. He grunted, wrenching sideways on the sword arm of the murmillo and finally pulling its gladius free of its grip. His other hand pulled its shield over just in time to deflect the secutor's follow-up stab into the ground. In one fluid motion, Quintus aimed a [Stab] down at the exposed neck of the mannequin atop him and severed it. The murmillo's head fell to the ground as its body went limp.

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Quintus flung the limp body of the murmillo up toward the secutor. It batted its fellow mannequin aside emotionlessly, buying him a precious moment to retrieve his own gladius from where it had fallen nearby. Gripping both blades, he sank them into the sand and hauled himself up to one knee before he was forced to deflect an overhead strike. The secutor's shield slammed into his chest, driving the air from his lungs as he was sent sprawling backwards once more.

He did his best to turn the tumble into a relatively graceful roll. The familiar sensation of [Battlefield Intuition] activating sent a tingle along his spine. This time, he was ready. His twin blades instinctively crossed and slashed through the air in a scissoring motion. The tattered remains of a weighted net tumbled uselessly to the ground about him.

In a flash, he gripped one of the relatively intact ropes leading back to the kneeling retiarius and yanked. That enemy in particular was proving quite the annoyance. And if he couldn't go to it, then he'd just have to bring it to himself.

Unfortunately, the net-wielding mannequin was more agile than the others. It didn't hesitate to release the ruined net before it became overbalanced. Shifting its grip, it struck out with its long trident where it knelt. Quintus locked his own blades with its own and drove the trident into the ground. He reared back with one arm, hurling a gladius at the out-of-reach gladiator. The heavy blade struck it square in the chest, sending the mannequin to the ground in a crumpled heap.

He grabbed the haft of the trident with his now free hand and smiled. Three down, one to go.

He spun just in time to parry a strike from the secutor sneaking up on him, empowering it with [Heavy Blow] to send the opponent reeling. The opening allowed him to use the trident as a crutch and force himself to his feet. At this point, he was practically balancing on one leg with how ruined his right was. But that didn't matter. He could get it healed afterward. Right now, his entire focus was on victory.

Quintus gripped the shaft of the trident in one hand, tucking its butt under his arm. He aimed a few feints at the secutor's faceplate and forced it to back off. The trident was never Quintus's weapon of choice. But he had trained with spears plenty, which were at least somewhat similar. This was just much more front-heavy and a lot less nimble. Worse, the thing's helmet was built specifically to match up against this weapon. Its smooth finish and small eye holes left small targets that would be difficult to hit accurately with the three-pronged weapon in the best of circumstances. But even the automaton still had an inclination to deflect blows to the head.

The secutor sidestepped one of Quintus's jabs and began to close the distance. He attempted to feint high and stab low to pin the automaton's foot, but it shuffled back just in time. Still, the trident stuck in the ground and blocked its way enough that it was forced to sidestep. Quintus pivoted using is good leg in the opposite direction to keep the trident between them, keeping the secutor at arm's distance and threatening to trip it.

He twirled his sword in his other hand, looking for some sort of opening. The relatively heavy armor and slow, careful approach of this style of gladiator would have been something he could get around if he could move properly. But as it was, he'd need a better plan and a second helping of good luck to pull this off. There were no other enemies left to pit this gladiator against. Nor did he think that his surprise leg tackle would work again. Worse, now that he was against a single opponent, he no longer felt that instinctive sense of what it might do next. It seemed that [Group Tactics] really did only work on groups.

Stumbling a half step back, Quintus growled as he pulled the trident out of the sand. His grip slid up on it to the point where his hand was almost right underneath the tines. This time, when the secutor attempted a thrust, he twisted the trident to catch the gladius between its blades.

He twisted with his arm and wrist, tucking the shaft of the trident in his armpit for extra leverage as he attempted to fling the gladius to the side. The automaton held tight to the weapon as it struggled to keep its balance. Quintus felt his attention sharpen as he saw its shield move just slightly out of place—an opening.

He didn't hesitate. With all the force he could muster, Quintus pushed off of that good back leg and lunged forward, shoving the enemy's arm into its chest. He slipped his blade behind its shield and beneath one of the leather straps that secured it in place, sawing and twisting at the same time. The gladius sliced into both the strap and the automaton's forearm, causing the shield to flop awkwardly to the side and the arm to hang limply.

Now that the shield was more of a hindrance than a help, the mannequin tried to free the remaining strap from its arm. But Quintus didn't give it the chance. He released the trident and grabbed the half-attached shield to wrench it away, forcing his foe off balance. He felt himself teetering on the edge of losing his own footing as well as his right leg buckled beneath him. Willing himself to stay upright with [Sure Footing], Quintus spun to strike with a [Heavy Blow] empowered backhand slash.

The gladius seemed to glide through the air, effortlessly finding a small crack between the gladiator's armored right arm and the lip of its rounded helmet. It struck true and passed through the mannequin's neck without resistance, sending its head spinning through the air with the sheer force of the blow.

Quintus stumbled forward and caught himself on one knee. His last foe remained standing for a moment longer, motionless, before it crumpled to the ground in a lifeless heap.

He panted, taking a brief moment to survey the arena. None of the four enemies had risen from where they lay. Thankfully. Quintus struggled to his feet just as the air around the arena shimmered once more.

As the barrier disappeared and his boiling blood cooled, Quintus finally registered the uproarious cheers of the men in the stands. He looked around, finding nearly all of the Legionnaires on their feet and hollering in approval.

He couldn't help but grin. As he raised a fist to the cheering crowd, gold lettering began to materialize in Quintus's vision.

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