"Weapons."

My body aches from three days of marching. Every muscle protests as Valeria tosses wooden sticks at the men, real swords at the women. Message received—even as soldiers, we're not soldiers.

"First hour, basic forms. Then you kill each other."

She demonstrates—thrust, block, advance, retreat. My arms burn after ten minutes. After thirty, I can't feel them. Kevin never exercised. Marcus was kept soft. This body is useless. But when she mentions killing, adrenaline floods my system. My hands stop shaking.

"Pathetic." Valeria kicks my legs wider. "Your sister should've drowned you at birth."

The System whispers to me alone: [Skill Progress: Basic Combat Stance 3%]

During water break, Cassia approaches. "When we fight, stay mobile. Don't try to block—you can't. Just survive the time limit."

"When we fight?"

Her eyes flick to a bracket drawn in the dirt. We're on opposite ends. "They always save the best match for last."

"Death matches," Valeria announces. "Five minutes. If your opponent survives, you get two hundred lashes. Winners eat, losers feed the crows."

The exhaustion is still there, but fear pumps through my veins. My body moves on pure survival instinct now.

The female soldiers place bets. They know what two hundred lashes means—death, but slower.

First match: Alexios versus Gaius.

Two pretty boys with sticks, neither trained to fight. They flail at each other, desperate. Gaius knows how to move but not how to kill. Alexios is younger, more desperate. When Gaius hesitates on what should be a killing blow, Alexios doesn't. Temple strike. Gaius drops, twitching, then still.

Alexios vomits immediately after. Sixteen, first kill.

Brutus versus Quintus. The forger doesn't even try. Drops his stick, closes his eyes. Brutus breaks his neck—quick, efficient. Almost merciful.

"Boring," Valeria spits. "Women, show them how it's done."

Drusilla versus Livia Minor. Steel rings against steel. The deserter has training, the thief has speed. Drusilla wins through experience—thrust through the throat. Livia Minor drowns in blood, clawing at her neck.

Paulina versus Tertia. The smuggler actually tries to run. Valeria's thrown dagger catches her spine. She crawls two feet before dying.

"Cowardice." Valeria retrieves her blade. "Tertia wins by default."

Second round. Alexios versus Brutus. The temple boy is still shaking from his first kill. Brutus doesn't give him time to recover. One strike to the temple—ironic. Alexios dies with tears on his cheeks.

Drusilla versus Tertia. Both wounded, both desperate. Drusilla's military training shows. She takes cuts to give worse ones. Finally drives her blade through Tertia's heart.

"Semi-finals," Valeria grins. "Male champion versus female champion."

Brutus has a stick. Drusilla has a sword and training.

It's not even close.

She cuts him apart piece by piece. First his legs, then his arms. He tries to grab her sword—loses fingers. Dies reaching for her throat with bloody stumps.

"As expected," Valeria says. "Men fighting women—always the same result."

Now Cassia enters the dirt circle. She hasn't fought yet. Neither have I.

"Final matches," Valeria announces. "Drusilla versus our gladiator. Then the winner faces the prince."

Drusilla is exhausted, bleeding from multiple cuts. Cassia is fresh.

Thirty seconds. That's how long Drusilla lasts. Cassia doesn't toy with her—just ends it. Clean thrust through the chest.

"And now," Valeria's grin widens, "the main event. The arena champion versus the fallen prince. Place your final bets!"

Cassia faces me. Her expression is stone.

"Five minutes," Valeria calls. "Someone dies, or someone gets flayed."

Cassia moves. I don't try to block—just throw myself sideways. Her sword splits the air where my head was.

"Good," she says quietly. "Keep moving."

I do. Diving, rolling, scrambling. It looks pathetic. It IS pathetic. But I'm alive after one minute.

Two minutes.

She corners me. No room to dodge. Her fist drives into my stomach.

The impact should kill me. Should rupture everything. I feel it—the damage that should be fatal. But something deep inside refuses to break. I hit the stone wall, gasping, vision black at the edges.

But I'm still breathing.

Cassia's eyes widen slightly. She knows that punch should've ended this. But to everyone else, it just looks like she held back. A male surviving because a female showed mercy.

"Typical," someone jeers from the walls. "She's going soft."

Three minutes.

Cassia attacks again, making it look good while pulling her strikes. The crowd thinks she's toying with me now. Playing with her food.

"STOP WASTING TIME!"

Four minutes.

She pins me against the wall, sword at my throat. Whispers: "Stay down after this."

Her knee catches my chest. I collapse—and this time I stay down, playing dead better than I am hurt.

"Time!"

The crowd boos. They wanted blood, got disappointment.

"The prince lives." Valeria looks disgusted. "Weak showing, gladiator. Two hundred lashes for failing to kill a male who can't even hold a sword properly."

They chain Cassia to a post. The first lash splits her back open. She doesn't scream. By fifty, she's unconscious. They keep going. The wet sound of leather on meat. Blood pooling beneath her.

At one hundred, her body shudders. At one-fifty, she's somehow still breathing. At two hundred, she's a ruin of meat and blood, but her chest rises and falls.

"Tougher than expected," Valeria comments, sounding bored. "Throw her in the recovery pit. If she crawls out in three days, she can fight. If not, she feeds the crows."

The recovery pit—a hole where the wounded either heal or die. No help. Just will.

They drag Cassia away. Her eyes flutter open for a moment, find mine. We both know something impossible happened in that fight. But everyone else just saw a woman going easy on a pretty male.

A notification appears, visible only to me: [Quest Complete: Survive Basic Training]
[Class Unlocked: Survivor]
[Hidden Trait Unlocked: Unnatural Resilience - Level 1]
[Trait Status: Dormant/Undetected]

"You," Valeria points at me. "Report to the Seventeenth Auxiliary tomorrow. You survived on luck and female mercy. Let's see how long that lasts against barbarians." She turns away, already bored. "Someone clean up these corpses."

As they pile the dead, I count. Eight dead. Two survivors—assuming Cassia makes it.

I touch my stomach where Cassia's fist connected. No bruising visible. No sign of the impossible thing that saved me. The System gave me something forbidden, and hid it so well that even I can barely feel it.

Three days until Cassia either dies or emerges from that pit. Three days to figure out why the System is changing me in secret.

In my vision, the barbarian king wielded impossible magic. Now I'm starting to understand—he didn't break the rules all at once.

He learned to hide them first.

Just like me.