Author's Note : I haven't made any revisions to this chapter because the almost-finished process would be too time-consuming. The essence system will appear in the next chapter, and I'll try to implement the MC's feelings to make them more apparent. As for the POV of other characters, I haven't done this in depth before, so I'll learn about it first to avoid disrupting the storyline.
( The use of Roman names )
The construction of Ludus Ulixes progressed faster than anticipated. Ulixes stood amidst the magnificent skeleton of the building, the scent of freshly cut pine and stone dust filling the air. Under his direction, the place no longer looked like a cattle pen, but a theater of honor.
He had just finished giving instructions to his foreman when one of the orphans he had recruited, a small girl named Livia whose eyes were sharper than a hawk's, ran up to him.
"Dominus," she whispered, handing him a slightly bruised apple. "The merchants at the south gate are complaining about new taxes from the Praetor's people. They are angry."
Ulixes accepted the apple and nodded. "Good information, Livia. Now return to your friends. Make sure you all eat well tonight."
The little girl smiled and vanished as quickly as she came. The network was working. He felt the city's pulse at his fingertips. A dangerous confidence began to grow within him.
That night, as he walked home through the increasingly deserted streets of Capua, accompanied only by his two new hired guards, that confidence shattered.
A cold sensation ran down the back of his neck. Not from the night wind. It was an older, more primal sensation. The feeling of being watched. His [Talent] 360-Degree Awareness screamed silently. He saw nothing in the dimly lit street ahead. But he felt it. A movement on the rooftop to his left. A shift of weight in a dark alley to his right. The sound of cloth brushing against stone behind him.
They were everywhere.
"DOWN!" Ulixes yelled, pushing his two guards aside as he dropped to the ground.
Moments later, two arrows whizzed from the rooftops, embedding themselves exactly where they had stood seconds ago. From the dark alleys, four figures in black leaped out, their daggers gleaming in the moonlight.
Ulixes's guards, taken by surprise, tried to fight back. One fell with his throat slit before he could even raise his shield. The second managed to parry one attack before a knife plunged into his back.
Ulixes was now alone, surrounded by four professional assassins.
They moved in unison, a coordinated encirclement tactic. But Ulixes, with his [Knowledge] Roman Military Tactics, saw the pattern. He did not try to fight them all at once. He lunged at one of them, not to kill, but to break through the encirclement.
The fight was a brutal blur of violence. This was not an arena duel. There was no honor, only deadly efficiency. Ulixes used every inch of his environment. He kicked a basket of fish at one of his attackers, sending him slipping on the slick fish guts.
He dodged a thrust and allowed his attacker to embed his knife in the wooden wall behind him. Before the man could pull his knife free, the hilt of Ulixes's sword slammed hard into the back of his head.
Two remained. They attacked him from front and back. Ulixes felt a knife graze his arm, sending a hot sting of pain. He ignored it. He twisted his body, using the momentum of the attack from the man in front of him to turn and plunge his sword into the abdomen of the man behind him.
Now only one remained. The last man, seeing his comrades dead, hesitated for a moment. That hesitation was a fatal mistake. Ulixes lunged forward, not swinging his sword. He slammed his small shield into the man's knee. There was a sickening crack of bone.
The man fell screaming, his weapon clattering from his hand.
Ulixes stood in the silent alley, panting, his own blood mingled with that of his enemies. He looked at the last assassin groaning in pain at his feet.
Back at the villa, Licinia cleaned the wound on Ulixes's arm with trembling hands. Her face was pale with fear. "They could have killed you," she whispered, her voice breaking as she tightly bandaged the wound.
Ulixes looked at his wounded arm, then at his reflection in the bronze mirror. He survived. But it was too close. His mind drifted back. Far away. To another life.
He was seventeen, standing on the balcony of their penthouse overlooking the glittering lights of a city that never slept. His father stood beside him, not as a father, but as a patriarch. The distinct aroma of his expensive cigar wafted through the cool night air. A soft melody played from the sound system inside.
If I'm not here, keep on singing... And if I'm gone, remember what happened...
"Do you know why I like this song, Thomas?" his father asked, his voice deep and calm. Young Thomas just shook his head.
"It's a reminder," his father continued, patting his shoulder. "That the Vance blood always runs in your veins, and you're not alone, even when you feel like it. Always remember the Vance family motto: the world is a stage. The Vance family's glory is not built on kindness, but from a sea of its enemies' blood."
Thomas looked at his father, confused.
"We appear good, but we manipulate. We give with purpose. In the eyes of ordinary people, we are a generous family. In the eyes of rivals and enemies, we are the embodiment of the seven sins," his father said, his eyes fixed on his son's reflection in the windowpane. "You don't realize it because it's not yet your time to enter the game. If you join the game later, remember our family motto. And remember your father's advice: never be kind to your enemy, because that is equivalent to harming yourself. There is no enemy that cannot be defeated. The mistake you made was being too weak."
His father smiled, a smile that did not reach his eyes. "This sounds cruel, but no one will notice if it's left unsaid. Smile and enjoy life, son. This is the life we live."
...Trust me even in the dark of night, you are not alone...
A soft hiss from Licinia pulled him back to the harsh reality of Capua. Ulixes looked at his reflection again. He survived the attack not just because of Rapid Adaptation or 360-Degree Awareness. He survived because of the instincts his father had instilled years ago.
He realized a cold truth. He needed a new weapon. No, not a new weapon. He needed his old weapon. His family's legacy. The ability to see intrigue, to understand networks of lies and power, to be a serpent among serpents. Basic Psychology was no longer enough. He had to reawaken the Vance blood within him. A new purpose for the Essence he had to collect.
In the cold, damp basement of his villa, the Egyptian tied the wounded assassin to a chair. The man cursed and struggled.
Ulixes stepped out of the shadows, his face calm but his eyes cold as winter.
"Praetor Glaber sent you," Ulixes said, not as a question, but as a statement of fact.
The assassin spat at him. "I don't know what you're talking about, noble."
Ulixes smiled faintly, a smile that did not reach his eyes. He gestured to the Egyptian, who picked up a small knife from the table.
"You are mistaken," Ulixes said softly. "I am no noble." He leaned forward, his voice now a terrifying whisper, an echo of his father's voice from the past. "I am the embodiment of the seven sins. And I know a hundred different ways to make a man scream."
The screams in the basement had long since stopped. In the early morning, the Egyptian came with a report. The assassin had talked. Everything.
Ulixes did not immediately summon his allies. Instead, he walked to the balcony of his villa, gazing at the dawn slowly coloring the Capuan sky. The morning air felt cold, but his mind was perfectly clear, free from the heat of anger, focused only on the single purpose of Glaber's destruction. He remembered his father's advice: The world is a stage. Never be kind to your enemy.
Glaber had made a mistake. Not by sending assassins, but by failing. And now, Ulixes would not give him a second chance. He would not ask his war council what to do. He would tell them how they would win.
When the women gathered in the atrium, tension hung among them. Ulixes stepped in, his gaze calm and controlled.
"I have his confession," he said without preamble. "Glaber confessed everything through the mouth of his assassin."
"He must die!" Licinia hissed, repeating her fear from the previous night.
"Killing him will bring ruin upon all of us," Ulixes replied, his voice cutting off the argument before it could begin. "We will not kill him." He paused, looking at them one by one. "We will make him wish he were dead."
He explained his plan. Not a proposal for discussion, but a series of commands. His plan was not a negotiation, but a trap. Ilithyia would be his bait.
"You will tell your husband that I wish to meet for peace," Ulixes said to Ilithyia. "Tell him I am frightened after the attack and wish to beg his forgiveness. Tell him I will come alone."
"He will not believe it," Ilithyia said, though her eyes showed she already understood the direction of the plan.
"Of course not," Ulixes countered. "His arrogance will not allow him to come here. And I will not be foolish enough to come to his barracks." He smiled faintly. "Therefore, you will suggest a neutral location. Our new wine villa outside the city. Secluded. Private. A place where two men's 'honor' can be restored without spies."
Ilithyia smiled. A perfect trap.
Glaber, driven by arrogance and the conviction that Ulixes was truly frightened, agreed. He came to the wine villa with only two guards, confident he would humiliate his rival once more.
He found Ulixes waiting for him on the terrace overlooking the green vineyards, calmly pouring two goblets of red wine.
"Praetor," Ulixes greeted with a respectful nod. "Thank you for coming."
"Save your pleasantries, Acilius," Glaber snarled. "Tell me what you want, so I can return to more important matters."
"Of course," Ulixes said. He did not offer the wine. He snapped his fingers.
From inside the house, the Egyptian emerged, dragging the now-battered assassin. He threw the man onto the floor between them.
Glaber's face immediately shifted from arrogant to ashen. He realized his mistake. He had not come for negotiations. He had walked into a serpent's nest.
"He has many interesting stories, Praetor," Ulixes said, his voice still calm, contrasting with the panic in Glaber's eyes. "About secret orders. About pouches of coins. I'm sure Crassus would be highly entertained to hear them."
Glaber looked at Ulixes with pure hatred. He had lost. Completely.
"What... do you want?" he hissed, each word feeling like poison in his mouth.
"Simple," Ulixes replied. "You will return to Capua and be an exemplary Praetor. You will ensure all our business operations run smoothly. You will dismiss any investigations that may arise. You will be our shield." He smiled, his father's smile. "In return, your little secret will remain safe. Your honor will not be tainted."
Glaber trembled with helpless rage. He was completely controlled. With a stiff, hateful nod, he agreed to everything. Checkmate.
That night, at Ulixes's villa, their alliance celebrated its victory in silence. Their biggest threat had now become their strongest puppet.
"Now that the serpent is under our control," Domitia said, her voice regaining its sharpness and confidence. "We must plan our next steps. For the heirs."
The five of them looked at the map of Capua and its surrounding lands spread out on the table. This was no longer about survival. This was about building a dynasty.
"Licinia's child will be Tiberius's legitimate heir," Ilithyia said, taking on the role of strategist. "For the others, we need stories. Distant journeys, adoptions from relatives 'lost' to rebel attacks... the narratives must be perfect and irreproachable."
Ulixes listened to them, letting his queens plan the future. He had given them security. Now, they would build a gilded cage to protect their secrets. The foundation of their empire had been laid, not on stone, but on carefully constructed lies and a conquered enemy.