As Crassus relayed the details about Spartacus, he had no idea that this calm, obedient man would someday bring disaster to Rome—
Starting with dozens, then hundreds, then thousands of followers, eventually growing into a scarlet storm of hundreds of thousands in mere months.
And Crassus himself would become Spartacus's mortal enemy,
using Spartacus's severed head as a stepping stone for his political rise.
Even now, Crassus just had a gut feeling that Spartacus was hiding something…
Because someone with that kind of power, yet content to live as a slave—it made no sense.
But Marius didn't care about any of that…
He didn't care what Spartacus was hiding.
All he needed to know was:
This man could fight.
And if he was going to strike—it had to be soon.
The other senators might be unclear on Lista Night's power, but Marius, as a former fanboy, had no doubt at all.
If that man won a few more victories,
gained control of Rome's military,
and even acquired a private army stationed in the capital——
How would that be any different from having an imperial guard?
In the East, eunuchs or ministers with control of the imperial guard had dared to assassinate emperors outright.
Rome would be no different.
In fact, worse.
There had even been a time when the Praetorian Guard killed the emperor and auctioned off the throne publicly.
A distant army can't save you.
Whoever controlled the Praetorian Guard under your feet held the initiative.
If they went mad, no one could stop them from killing anyone.
Marius deeply coveted such power.
If it were he who could raise a private army, he'd gladly throw both hands up and scream yes.
But now, idol or not, anyone who held power strong enough to threaten his position—
Had to die.
He was no longer that naive boy, dreaming of chasing someone else's shadow.
Dreams mean nothing, not in the face of ambition and power.
And Spartacus would be the blade he wielded to strike at that mountain-like figure.
"I want this man... how much gold" Marius asked in a low, firm voice.
"No gold," Crassus replied, flashing a radiant smile.
"No gold?!" Marius blinked in surprise.
"I already warned you, my lord. If you still want to use him, then if anything happens, I'm not taking responsibility."
"Although I don't know what you plan to do with him, I'd like to offer you a favor.
Not just Spartacus—I can also throw in a batch of strong Spartan and Thracian warriors."
As a seasoned investor, Crassus was a man of bold moves.
In the future, he would invest nearly several times the value of the Athenian treasury into Caesar without even blinking, he was ruthless like that.
A man who could climb so high naturally wasn't some philanthropist—he had sharp eyes for potential.
Long ago, he had already noticed the talents of Marius, Cinna, Lucius, and Sulla.
And ultimately, he placed his bet on Marius, believing that he would emerge the victor.
Crassus was gambling—
Gambling that Marius would become the next Consul of Rome.
And even though the Consulship was usually held jointly, the reality was, once someone attained that position, they could do as they pleased.
Especially someone like Marius, who held real power, once he became Consul, even the Senate would be filled with his people.
Whatever he proposed…
As long as it didn't touch the senators' core interests, no one would object.
That would be Crassus's time to collect.
With Marius's name at his back, he could become one of the most powerful men in Rome.
Of course, that was based on the previous state of Roman politics.
What Crassus didn't know was that his information was already outdated.
Because of one man's return, Rome's upper ranks were now in complete turmoil.
Marius said darkly,
"What is it you want from me…"
He had seen through Crassus's intentions.
In this young man's eyes, there was ambition, his own kind of hunger.
There's no such thing as a free deal.
Every "free" gift already has a price tag hidden in the shadows.
"I want nothing—only to gain your friendship, my lord." Crassus smiled brightly.
Little fox——!!!
Marius couldn't see through this smiling slave owner, he was absolutely watertight.
Friendship, huh?
A favor owed is the most expensive debt of all—
Harder to repay than anything else.
If it were any other time, Marius might have restrained himself.
But now, he really did need powerful warriors.
"A pleasure doing business——!
You've earned the friendship of Gaius Marius."
"To a fruitful alliance!!*
The two foxes, one old, one young—smiled knowingly at one another.
To celebrate their budding friendship, Crassus insisted on having Marius enjoy some of the "amenities" of his arena.
Spartacus would be delivered soon—
as one of Crassus's "gifts."
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Meanwhile——
Elsewhere.
Completely unaware that someone had already begun scheming against him, Night went about his own business.
Of course, even if he did know, he wouldn't care about Marius's plotting.
The warrior who would one day liberate the slaves, Spartacus, may have had monstrous strength.
Not just in Rome; even in Greece, he might be hailed as a hero.
But the version of Night that Marius understood, was already outdated.
Night first returned to his own villa estate, organizing his loyal slave-warriors to form the first official unit of his private army.
When these slaves heard that they'd already be marching to battle soon to earn merit and glory, they were thrilled—
For the first time, they felt truly secure in their hearts.
Their master hadn't lied to them!!
He really did plan to raise them as soldiers, not treat them like the other arrogant, heartless nobles who threw slaves into arenas for sport.
That moment solidified their loyalty and their enthusiasm during training soared.
With the backing of Lucius Caesar,
and before leaving the Caesar family estate, Night also squeezed quite a bit of money out of the Great Caesar himself.
He sent Ella and Amy to purchase a massive quantity of vegetables and meat.
Night had high standards for his private army.
Money could always be made again—
But turning that money into combat power was the best investment.
He would never shortchange the warriors who followed him.
After all, how can you grow strong if you don't eat meat?!
Among these slave warriors, especially the Spartans, Night held high expectations.
If these Spartans could awaken even a trace of the demigod bloodline within them, no matter how faint, that alone would grant them hero-level physique and combat ability.
The sheer ferocity of the 300 Spartans at Thermopylae, holding off tens of thousands of Persian soldiers, who wouldn't envy that kind of power?
Imagine going into battle with an army like that, talk about dramatic entrances!
But, how exactly could he stimulate that Spartan bloodline to awaken?
Night couldn't help but think to himself:
If only I could bring them to the Trojan War battlefield for a training session...
Say what you will,
But there's nothing that unlocks potential better than life-or-death crisis.
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