When Marcus had initially offered to take Tiberius through the ruins, he’d pictured a slightly different situation. One where he’d go on a nice hike with the big boss, perhaps use the time to talk about some of the less important matters on his mind and use the opportunity to further ingrain himself into the man’s good graces. Once they got there, maybe the men would set up a pavilion for their emperor and investigate while they relaxed.

That was not what he got.

He supposed he should have known better, that that was a stupid wish. Perhaps he’d been lulled into a false sense of security by the comforts the Romans had been constructing at home, such as those magnificent baths he was growing so fond of. But when it was time to work, they were consummate professionals.

The ruins were only about an hour’s walk from the town, albeit hidden deep in the forest. To them, that was a comparatively short twenty-minute march at a sedate pace. For Marcus, it was practically a long-distance sprint, which he was not exactly cut out for. Especially not so early in the morning.

So he started the day sweaty and irritated, with aching feet and a strange pain in his side that felt like someone was stabbing him every time he tried to breathe.

On top of that, all Tiberius hadn’t even bothered to come. Instead, he’d sent his second-in-command, Gaius, to make sure that everything was documented and anything important would be brought back. He certainly liked Gaius, but still. The young officer was already quite positively disposed toward him. It felt like a wasted opportunity.

The one glimmer of relief he experienced was that Gaius didn’t seem completely unfazed by the march, either. Not that he was in as poor of shape as Marcus. His face was just slightly redder than Marcus remembered. Compared to the hundred or so other Legionnaires that had followed them, most of whom weren’t even winded, it was something.

Both he and Gaius found seats atop the remains of a stone column on the outskirts of the ruins. At least, that’s what it resembled. It was difficult to be sure, given the level of degradation it had experienced.

“What’s wrong, Marcus? Tired already?”

The panting bard turned toward the Legionnaire who had spoken. “Yes, well. I’d like to see how you fare without those skills of yours.”

“Says the man with twenty levels on us. Didn’t you invest anything into constitution?”

Marcus scoffed. “Of course not. Why would I? I’m a bard, not a soldier, and certainly no marathon runner!”

“Well, you know. I thought a man like you would understand the importance of stamina.”

“Augstus, you could have the stamina to run across the whole continent in one go and still leave a lady unsatisfied. Just because you can fumble about for longer doesn’t mean it would be any more enjoyable for her.”

The Legionnaires roared with laughter at the back-and forth. Marcus took each insult in stride, more than happy to send them back with interest. It served as a nice diversion as he caught his breath. Though notably, Gaius avoided a similar fate. Evidently, the men were a little less inclined to trade casual barbs with an officer.

After Marcus caught his breath, mopping the sweat from his face and neck with a handkerchief, they were ready to move on.

The ruins didn’t look like much from the outside. Broken structures of stone and eroded rubble poked out from the forest floor, the tallest of them only standing a few yards high. Most of the remains were relatively nondescript, the few details that could be identified marking them as more columns or arches. But nothing more.

Of course, that was just on the surface. When he’d last visited, Myra had taken him to a fresh sinkhole that revealed an entire underground area beneath. There were only a few rooms accessible, given that most of it had been buried over the years, but still. They had seen a few stairways to indicate that the network expanded even deeper.

Luckily, the Legion had brought many, many shovels.

They made a cursory pass through the rooms that were accessible one at a time. Gaius surveyed each one, taking notes for the report he’d inevitably present to Tiberius.

“It certainly is Roman,” the officer remarked as he ran a hand over one of the pillars. “Not just the construction, either. There’s a few pieces of furniture that look more familiar than I would have expected. A few bust fragments, too.”

Marcus nodded That certainly made sense. He was a little surprised that the man could pull so much information from rubble like this, but their architectural style did seem rather unique. Perhaps that made it easier to recognize.

“Where did you find the book?”

Marcus roused himself. “Ah, right over here.”

He led them to a hidden alcove, revealed only by the ravages of time. Around its edge were inscribed a few magical wards that had long since failed.

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Gaius hummed thoughtfully. “Well. If it was in fact hidden, that explains why no one found it for so long… Although it doesn’t explain what this place is. Speaking of…” He turned over his shoulder. “All right, men! Let’s get to work!”

And so they did. And as they dug, the true structure came into being.

They started on the inside, clearing a partially-intact stairwell that led downward. Their progress was rather alarming, more in line with what Marcus might expect from a team of [Miners] than anything else. Once they reached the bottom and began digging horizontally, they found the area below had been mostly spared from the dirt and stone above.

A lit torch revealed a sprawling space before them, wide enough across that its other side couldn’t be seen from the ledge where they stood. Stretching up toward the ceiling rose rows upon rows of stone seats, each tier arranged in a ring around the central space below. It was one of these tiers where they now stood, gazing down at a layer of water that had pooled in that central space. A few structures that looked to be private boxes could be seen at the very edge of the torchlight.

Marcus gaped at the sight. He’d initially assumed that these ruins were some sort of collection of homes or maybe even a fort of some kind. But this…

“Well, I’ll be… Zeus, come down and bugger my horse,” Gaius muttered in awe. It was one of the more colorful phrases that Marcus had ever heard the officer use.

“Who’s Zeus? And what is this?” The bard asked, turning about to examine the area. “Do you know?”

“Ah, one of those barbarian gods,” Gaius answered absently. “As for this… It’s an amphitheater. Almost as big as the one in Rome itself,” Gaius whispered almost reverently as he looked up. “And judging by the fact that it’s not filled with dirt, I’d say it’s even covered. That’s… I’ve never seen one like that before.”

The pair stood there, simply taking in the sight as Legionnaires continued to bustle around them. Some of the men had similar responses, gaping up at the amphitheatre as they worked to light the area and ensure it was stable. However, a quick cuff from the nearest centurion was usually enough to get them moving again.

Eventually, Marcus broke the silence. “So… what does this mean?”

Gaius let out a slow breath. “Well…” he said slowly, “I’m not sure. But I can make a few inferences.”

“Such as?”

“If there’s an arena like this, then there were likely gladiators as well. Ones that knew how to fight with the System, if I had to guess.”

“Gladiators?” Marcus frowned. “Is that a class of some sort?”

The young officer shook his head. “Not in the way I mean it. Though I suppose it could be. They were men who fought for crowds and entertainment. They were often utilized to train Legionnaires, as well. If anyone would provide a good template for how Roman combat could be integrated using the System, it would be them. If they’ve left any clues…”

Gaius shook his head for a moment. “We’ll need to search more. If nothing else… this is an incredible find. If we can excavate this structure, then we can repair and use it for training and more.”

Marcus watched as Gaius and a contubernium of Legionnaires hopped down, vaulting over the small wall between them and a kind of staging area that ran around the flooded center of the amphitheater. He followed after them, albeit a bit more clumsily. They walked around the perimeter of the space, finding it surprisingly intact. If they really could unearth the thing, them Marcus suspected that the renovations and repairs required to return this arena to its former glory would be fairly minimal.

Soon they were all gathered around what appeared to be a gate that would lead into a staging area. Gaius reached out and touched the metal, its surface oddly pristine and free of rust.

A deep rumbling sounded from below as the arena’s sands began to shift beneath their feet. Gaius’s head whipped up as he barked an order. “Back to the staircase!”

The rest of the group didn’t need to be told twice. They took off at a dead sprint, rushing toward the excavated exit as the rumbling intensified. A sudden roar filled their ears as water exploded from the ground, geysers quickly beginning to flood the area.

The first of the Legionnaires reached the wall of the staging area. He leapt up, reaching out to grab the lip and haul himself over. However, his palms slammed against empty air, causing him to slide back down to the ground. The man swore, trying again as his comrades did the same.

“It’s no use!” One of the centurions called. “Sir, there’s a barrier of some sort!”

Marcus swore, already splashing through a couple of inches of water with each step. If there was a barrier, it was all-too-likely that it stretched around the entire arena. Death by drowning underground in some ancient ruin was not how he wanted to go. Not in the slightest. He scanned the arena rapidly for some other way out.

“There!” He shouted, pointing toward one of the gates. It was slowly rising, allowing a long, dark shape to drift through. On closer inspection, it appeared to be a boat—a long one with a curved prow and oars extending to either side.

“Climb aboard!” he heard Gaius call. The officer was already making his way toward the ship where it drifted next to the staging area. The other men quickly followed suit, leaping aboard and reaching out for each other before the water rose high enough to drown their armored forms. The boat rocked dangerously with the movements.

One of the Legionnaires grabbed Marcus and practically threw him up to the boat. Another man caught his arm, pulling him fully onto the deck and nearly dislocating his shoulder in the process. He stumbled forward with a wince, looking among the slightly waterlogged soldiers around him. Just then, the deep, reverberating note of a trumpet echoed through the space.

“What in the bloody hells is happening?”

One of the centurions swore. “Fucked if I know. But that sound was familiar. It was almost like…”

“…Like the start of a gladiatorial match,” Gaius finished with a frown. “And I think I’m beginning to see why.”

Marcus followed the man’s gaze across the water. As the trumpet sounded, a series of torches ringing the arena had flared to life, revealing a second gate on the far end of the space. There, drifting out of its opening, were a pair of boats not unlike their own. But rather than empty, these boats were manned with what appeared to be faceless armored figures.

And they were rowing their way.

He heard Gaius swear under his breath. “Well, I think it’s fairly obvious what we need to do to get out of this… and we may not have much of a choice.”

The young officer turned to his men, his jaw set with determination. “To arms, men! We don’t want to be sitting ducks while they get here!”

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep