All the experienced gladiators that are able to train others, come out and surround Septimus. They look Septimus up and down, sizing him up. Most of them shake their heads and leave until there are only two warriors standing in front of Septimus. One of them was the man that was riding the war horse. Septimus stands there, waiting patiently, until finally...

"I will train him," the man Septimus had previously seen states. The other warrior walks away, there's no more need for him to stay there. "Now, follow me." Septimus does as he is told and follows his new mentor into the archway in which Septimus had entered the arena. He is led through winding corridors and past rooms with training soldiers. They stop once they reach an empty room with only a wooden dummy in the center. "What's your name?"

"My name is Septimus Casca," Septimus tells him.

"I am Vitus Asellus. I will teach you how to survive the arena. You got lucky this time." Vitus hands Septimus a battle axe, a better one. Septimus takes it. "That is your weapon from now on, the given item. Use it on that dummy." Septimus nods, stepping closer to the dummy and taking a couple of practice swings, trying out some maneuvers. "No," Vitus states, causing Septimus to freeze mid-swing.

"What?" Septimus wonders, looking toward Vitus. "Did I do something wrong?"

"No, but you won't be able to survive using those techniques. It would probably help if you bulk up. But for now, go home and get some rest. Get here, before sunrise tomorrow."

*        *        *        *        *        *        *

"Hey Septimus!" Arcadia greets. "Congratulations! That battle of yours was so intense. Everyone thought that you were going to die, I thought so too a couple of times. But, fortunately, you're alive!"

"Heh, thanks," Septimus says, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. "Can you wake me up before dawn tomorrow?"

"Of course I can! I'm guessing you're going to start your training tomorrow."

"Yeah, Vitus said that it was lucky that I won."

"Vitus Asellus?" Arcadia wonders, eyes wide.

"Yeah, what about him?" Septimus responds.

"Oh, well, back when he was in his prime, he defeated any challenging gladiators and could wander the streets at night without getting injured. Now he doesn't win all of his fights, but no one kills him because they respect him. I didn't realize that that was who decided to mentor you!" she explains. "There are rumors that his training is so harsh that some of his previous disciples left the city in self-exile because they quit being a gladiator. Of course, those are just rumors."

"Yeah, but that will just help me grow stronger. Do you know anyway to 'bulk up'?" Septimus wonders. "Besides training, I know that will help, but I feel like something else would be necessary."

"Well, you probably need to eat more, that will help with your unhealthy look at least," Arcadia states. "Probably lots of bread and meat. Milk as well. Here, I have some leftover meat and a little bit of milk."

"Where can you get the milk and meat here in the city? I know that you get the bread for me every day."

"The butcher has lots of meat, it's expensive and he lives on the other side of town. The milk can be bought by the owner of a small inn. Wait until tomorrow to get those things."

*        *        *        *        *        *        *

"You're late," Vitus states as Septimus enters the training room with his axe. "The sun is already rising."

"I'm sorry, I promise to get here earlier tomorrow!" Septimus apologizes.

"What's done, is done, now, put your axe down and put this over your torso." Vitus points to a hidden rack in the corner of the room with a bronze helmet and bronze shoulder armor with leather straps and metal buckles. Septimus walks over and takes the shoulder armor first, slipping his arms through the straps and positioning his arms so they are comfortable. He places the helmet on his head, the part in front pressing down on his nose.

"Now lie down on your stomach." He follows orders and soon feels a weight upon his back. "Try lifting you and the weight up off the ground and hold that position for five minutes." Septimus tries, and tries, and tries, but to no avail.

"Pretend that you are weightless and that the only weight you need to lift is the armor and what is on your back." Septimus exhales slowly, closing his eyes, trying to imagine himself as a feather, or air. When he thinks that he has achieved this, he attempts to push himself up once more. Septimus pushes his chest above the ground by about 3 centimeters, collapsing immediately afterwards.

"Do better," Vitus demands.

"I'm trying!" Septimus exclaims, looking at his mentor. He turns his head to see what exactly is on his back and sees a large chunk of iron. "How do you expect me to lift this?"

"I told you already. You must be weightless."

"That's impossible."

"Nothing is impossible. Everyone watching your fight thought it was impossible for you to win, but you won."

"That was luck, you said so yourself."

"And it is my job to make sure that the next time you win it will be from skill, not luck," he says. "Now, try again." Septimus breathes in and out slowly, laying on the cold, hard stone floor. He closes his eyes once again and lets his mind go blank. The feeling in his body slowly disappears. Getting his hands ready, Septimus pushes himself up, balancing and not even shaking, keeping his eyes closed. Vitus watches, his expression not changing. "It has been more than five minutes," Vitus tells Septimus, "and you have not collapsed yet." Septimus opens his eyes and falls down. The weight is removed from his back and he stands up.

"I didn't feel like I was doing anything, not pushing myself up, or the armor, or the weight. Why?" Septimus wonders. Vitus stares deep into his eyes, pondering.

"I do not know," he says finally. "Maybe..."

"Maybe what?"

"Nothing. There are no more of those people, it would be crazy even to say it."

*        *        *        *        *        *        *

"How was training?" Arcadia asks, placing a piece of bread on the plate in front of Septimus.

"It was tough," Septimus states. "I had to lift myself up with armor on and a large chunk of iron on my back. Then I did some sparring with Vitus." Arcadia pours him a cup of milk.

"I wouldn't be able to do that! Did you?"

"Yeah, after multiple tries." Septimus tears off a piece of bread and slowly eats it. "Aren't you going to eat?"

"No, I ate already. You need more food than I do anyway. I went to the butcher's and the inn to get you the meat and milk." Septimus swallows his bread.

"Thanks, Arcadia."