Gladiator 2 General Acacius Novels & Stories

It barely covered my thighs, and the fabric clung to my breasts, making my nipples poke through. Heads turned my way. Men in the stands pointed and whistled. I felt exposed, but a thrill ran through me. This was my chance for something wild. I scanned the arena. Three gladiators caught my eye. They had just won their fight and stood tall, covered in sweat and grime. The first one, Marcus, was bald and huge, over six feet with muscles like rocks. He held a net and trident, his eyes sharp and hungry. Next to him was Secundus, dark hair matted to his forehead, broad chest heaving as he gripped his sword. His arms were thick from years of battle.

Hard. I cry out as I go down, barely feeling the pain and pulling the knife from my side. But when I look up, I gasp at what I’m seeing. It’s the Luka I saw so many days ago… The Luka with long hair and no tattoos… The Luka who smells like rotten eggs. “Allow me, my old friend,” he says as he grabs Alpha Kai from behind, holding his hands behind his back. “I am a friend of your mistress, now do as she instructed - kill Kai Volkov.”

Victorious and towering above his fallen opponent stood Lucius, the gladiator known as the Lion of Rome. His body was a masterpiece of strength and ferocity, bronzed from endless hours under the sun, his muscles carved from the relentless training that had forged him into the empire's most celebrated warrior. His dark eyes, fierce and unyielding, scanned the roaring masses, his chest heaving with exertion. In the shaded balcony above, Claudia, a patrician woman of noble blood, watched him with rapt attention. Her delicate fingers gripped the railing, her knuckles pale against the gold trim as her eyes remained fixed on him.

The crowd jeered more as the gladiator that had been winning the rounds lately won this last round and removed his helmet, his eyes now on the people seated on the high seat of the theatre. Loukas followed his eyes and saw the figures. Gerasimus and Kostas Eliades. He turned back to the male, his thoughts clicking as he studied the look in his face. Hate. Pure hate for the two beings in that seat. How odd. The crowd began to roar louder as he walked out of the field to the gateway while Loukas followed, slightly pushing and shoving anyone in his path as he did so before he found the cells below the theatre where he found Achilles seated in.

Kronos and Acacius struck each other again and again, neither willing to back down. Kronos grunted as Acacius nailed him with a hard strike to the temple. He aimed a kick at his chin, which Acacius ducked. Thinking fast, Kronos spun on his foot, catching Acacius with a roundhouse kick. Kronos smiled at the satisfying cracking sound he heard. The smile was soon gone, replaced with a grimace by a palm strike to his nose. Blood began to flow down into his mouth. He spat to the side and met an oncoming fist of Acacius with one of his own.

you touched what was mine" Emilia looked at Lucian in disbelief. She could hardly believe what she was hearing. She felt completely astonished as she listened to his words Marcus felt anger rising within him, and the moment Lucian said that, the mocking expression vanished from his face and was replaced by looks of anger and hatred. Without further introduction, he rushed to him and the duel began between them. The clanging of sword and axe echoed in the room, and even though Marcus was just a prince. However, he was very clever, but he would not be able to hold on for long. Lucien had spent a long life on the warfield, so these matters were trivial to him. He thought slyly before a wide smi

' 'Who had done this? 'Who had taken his father away?' His fingers clenched into fists as his light blue eyes scanned the faces in the crowd. 'What's happening?' 'Why do they look at us like that?' The chariot jolted over the cobblestones, forcing his hands open. Drusus Caesar, second son of Germanicus. He was old enough to understand. Old enough to see what was happening. And yet, he refused to believe it. A coldness settled in his gut, a premonition of something terrible.

Raze staggered, dropping to his knees with a strained groan. His gun slipped from his hand. Silence began to creep back in as the last of his men fell. Cassius approached slowly, his expression dark, a cold smile forming on his lips. “You should have backed off years ago,” he said quietly. Raze coughed, blood staining his lips. “I was never your enemy,” Cassius continued, his voice steady. “But you chose this.” He stepped closer. “You were always a coward,” he added, his tone cutting. “And now you die like one.”

"He has admitted to killing the Lortal." As if on cue, the hushed whispers intensified, spreading like wildfire, Jupiter cleared his throat and all went silent once again. "He admitted to killing the Lortal, Hannibal Barca." That's not too bad, Lucian thought. He'd probably get a beating and be done with it and judging by his appearance and the solidifying merlot blood on the floors of the court, he had been punished already. Then what exactly was this meeting for?