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" A gain!" Cato barked, his voice echoing through the training grounds.

I gritted my teeth, sweat dripping from my brow as I charged at my opponent. My sword felt heavy in my hands, but I refused to let it show. I swung at him, pouring every ounce of anger and determination I had into the strike. He easily dodged, leaving me off balance and vulnerable.

"Too slow, Livia," he taunted before landing a blow on my shoulder, sending me tumbling to the ground.

I clenched my fists, dirt digging into my skin. This was the fifth defeat today, and I could feel the eyes of the other trainees on me, their whispers like daggers in my heart. I thought back to my family, brutally murdered by the emperor's men, and how I vowed to avenge them by becoming a gladiator. But with each defeat, my dream seemed further away.

"Get up," Cato ordered, his tone void of sympathy. I pushed myself to my feet, wincing at the pain throbbing in my shoulder. My frustration bubbled inside me, threatening to erupt like a volcano. Why couldn't I win just one match?

"Focus, Livia," he said, his steely gaze meeting mine as we resumed our positions. "You're letting your emotions cloud your judgment."

"Easy for you to say," I snapped, feeling the weight of my failures crush my confidence. "You're the one just standing around yelling."

"Enough." His voice was low and dangerous. "You think you're the only one with something to prove? We all have our reasons for being here. Now fight."

With a growl, I lunged at him again, trying to channel my anger into my movements. I knew I should be more calculated, more precise, but I couldn't help it. My desire for vengeance consumed me, and it was all I could do to keep from screaming.

As I swung my sword, Cato easily parried, his expression impassive. "You're too predictable, Livia."

"Shut up!" I yelled as I launched another attack, only for him to sidestep it with ease. My frustration grew with each failed attempt, hot tears stinging my eyes.

"Control your emotions," he advised. "You're too erratic and you aren't thinking." I hardly heard him. It had been weeks of exercises, drills, sword forms and sparring, over and over again. I trained early in the morning before training started, and late into the night when I could find someone who'd spar with me. And yet still, I was losing every damn match. Two arena battles had come and gone, and I hadn't been placed in any of them. My dreams of vengeance seemed to be fading, just like the light.

The sun was setting, casting a blood-red hue in the sky as I stood in the training arena, beads of sweat sliding down my face. The sand beneath my feet felt warm yet unforgiving, much like the world I now found myself in. My muscles ached from the long day of intense training, and I could feel the phantom sting of previous cuts and bruises.

"Rena!" Cato snapped. "Come and finish her off. It won't take much."

I practically growled at him.

"Ready for another round?" Rena smirked, her dark eyes glinting with a mix of challenge and amusement. She was tall and lean, her body honed to perfection by countless hours of grueling combat. Her arms were decorated with intricate tattoos, each one symbolizing a victory she had claimed in the arena. I hated how effortlessly she seemed to dominate everyone she fought, including me.

"Bring it on," I muttered, shifting my grip on my wooden practice sword and trying to ignore the nagging doubt that gnawed at the edges of my resolve. The air was heavy with humidity, making it difficult to breathe, but I refused to let it deter me from my goal.

As we began sparring, I focused on Rena's movements, searching for any weaknesses in her defense. Despite my best efforts, however, her strikes were swift and lethal, leaving me little room to counterattack. My frustration mounted with every parry, every dodge - why couldn't I just land one solid hit?

"Come on, Livia," Rena taunted, landing a light blow on my shoulder. "You can do better than that."

"Shut up," I hissed through gritted teeth, lunging forward with a desperate swing. Rena easily sidestepped my attack, her laughter ringing in my ears.

"Is this really the best you can do?" a voice sneered from the sidelines, causing me to glance over and see Maro smirking with his friend.

"Maybe you should just give up," Maro's friend chimed in, crossing his arms and looking me up and down with disdain. "You'll never make it as a gladiator."

"Stay out of this," I snapped, my face flushing with anger and embarrassment. Their jeers only fueled my determination to prove them wrong, but at the same time, their words left a bitter taste in my mouth.

"Focus, Livia," Rena commanded. "Don't let them get to you."

"Easy for you to say," I muttered, my hands shaking as I raised my sword once more. My heart raced, pounding in my ears as I tried to block out everything but the woman standing before me.

"Enough talk, then," Rena said, lunging forward with renewed vigor. "Show me what you can do."

As we clashed again, I tried to channel my rage into my movements, using it to fuel my attacks rather than hinder them. But no matter how hard I fought, it seemed as though I was always one step behind. Eventually I held my hands up, backing away, desperate for a moment just to breathe. Rena shook her head in disgust.

I glanced over towards Marcus's training area. The sun had descended further, casting an orange hue across the sky, and the warm evening air was heavy with the scent of sweat and iron. The sound of clashing swords and grunts of exertion filled the arena, drowning out my own labored breathing.

"Keep your guard up!" Marcus bellowed at the group of trainees before him. They moved in unison, their bodies tense with concentration as they executed a complex series of attacks and parries. His eyes never left them, scrutinizing every movement with the intensity of a hawk. I couldn't help but feel a pang of jealousy as I watched them, wishing that I could be under his guidance too. I was starting to think that maybe he was going easy on me though. My sessions with the other trainers were much harder.

"Pathetic," Cato scoffed, appearing beside me as if from nowhere. His cold blue eyes narrowed as he looked me up and down, his lip curling in disdain. "You've been training for months, and still, you're no better than when you started."

"Maybe if I had a decent trainer, I'd improve faster," I snapped back, refusing to be cowed by his presence.

"Or perhaps you simply don't belong here," he retorted, his voice dripping with contempt. He crossed his arms over his broad chest, the muscles in his biceps straining against the fabric of his tunic. "You should know your place, girl. It's not among warriors."

"Shut up, Cato," I hissed, clenching my fists at my sides. My vision blurred with unshed tears of frustration, but I refused to let them fall.

"Mark my words, girl," Cato hissed. "Your stubbornness will end up getting someone killed, maybe even yourself."

"Is it my fault I don't have the privilege of being born a man?" I spat back, my hands balling into fists at my sides as I glowered at him.

"Enough of your excuses!" Cato sneered, leaning in so close that I could feel his hot breath on my face. "You're a liability to everyone around you. It's only a matter of time before your incompetence costs us all dearly."

"Get out of my face, Cato," I snarled through gritted teeth. My entire body trembled with rage, the blood pounding in my ears like a war drum.

"Or what?" he taunted, a cruel smile twisting his lips. "You'll challenge me to a duel? We both know how that would end."

"Maybe if I keep training, I'll surprise you one day," I retorted, trying to hold onto the last shred of my dignity. But deep down, I couldn't help but feel the weight of his words, the crushing sense that I would never be good enough.

"Keep dreaming, girl," Cato scoffed, pushing past me and leaving me alone with my thoughts.

I leaned against the wall, my legs suddenly feeling weak. Hot tears pricked at the corners of my eyes, and I angrily swiped them away. I wanted nothing more than to prove Cato wrong, to show everyone that I was capable of being a warrior. But every defeat, every humiliating failure, only seemed to confirm their doubts.

"Damn it all," I muttered under my breath, slamming my fist into the rough stone wall. Pain shot through my hand, but it did little to alleviate the storm of emotions raging within me. I was trapped in a vicious cycle of anger and self-pity, one that threatened to consume me.

"Get a hold of yourself, Livia," I whispered to myself, trying to pull my thoughts together. "You can't let them win."

I took a deep breath, forcing down the bitter taste of defeat. Despite everything, despite the naysayers and my own doubts, I would keep pushing forward. It was the only way to honor the memory of my family and to prove to myself that I was more than just a helpless girl.

"Watch me, Cato," I vowed, my voice barely audible even to myself. "One day, you'll choke on your own words."

"Pathetic."

The harsh, mocking voice cut through the air like a whip, and I instinctively tensed. Rena stood before me, her tall, lean figure clad in gladiator armor that only accentuated her muscular build. Her dark hair was pulled back into a tight braid, revealing fierce, brown eyes that seemed to bore into my soul.

"Can't even land a single hit, can you?" she sneered, circling me like a predator assessing its prey. "And yet you dare call yourself a gladiator."

"Leave me alone, Rena," I snapped, clenching my fists so tightly that my knuckles turned white. "I don't need your taunts."

"Maybe not," she replied, her tone dripping with condescension. "But you obviously need help if you ever want to survive in the arena. Look at you – you're not even holding your sword properly. Do you want to die?"

"Of course not!" I spat back, my frustration and anger mounting with each passing second. "But I'm doing the best I can. What more do you want from me?"

"Your best isn't good enough," Rena shot back, her piercing gaze never leaving my face. "You think this is some sort of game? You think you can just waltz in here, pick up a sword, and suddenly become a warrior? It doesn't work that way, Livia. You have to fight for it, bleed for it, suffer for it."

"Shut up!" I screamed, unable to contain the torrent of emotions that threatened to consume me. "You don't know anything about me! You don't know what I've been through, what I've lost!"

"Doesn't matter, sweetheart," she snapped. "None of that will help you when you're facing a real opponent in the arena. You'll just be another pretty little corpse."

"Go to Hades!" I yelled at her, my vision blurred with tears of anger and frustration. "You have no idea what it's like to lose everything or to have nothing left to live for except vengeance!"

"Vengeance?" Rena laughed. "How do you plan on getting that if you can't even fight properly? You're no gladiator, Livia. You're just a girl playing at being one."

I stared at her, my words gone as the truth of her words hit home like a spear to the chest. I turned around and drove my fist into the wooden surround again and again until the skin on my knuckles split and began to bleed. I leaned my forehead against the wooden post, breathing hard, fighting back furious tears. There was no way in the world I'd let any of them see me cry.

"Livia." Rena's voice came from behind me, a little softer than it had been before. I turned around to look at her, hating the expression of pity she wore. I didn't need her pity. She must have seen the expression on my face, because her lips pressed together.

"Look, I know you're frustrated, but you can't let these idiots get to you. You've got to prove them wrong."

"Prove them wrong?" I repeated, my voice cracking. "How am I supposed to do that when I can't even beat any of them in a sparring match?"

"By getting better, by working harder," Rena answered, her eyes searching mine. "You've got the heart for it, Livia. Now you just need the skill."

"Easy for you to say," I muttered, looking away from her.

"No, it isn't. You think I didn't go through what you did?"

"No," I said, looking straight at her. "I don't. You arrived here a warrior, already trained, already strong. I don't think you have a clue what I'm going through."

"Really? How do you think I became that warrior, Livia? You think I woke up and was born like this?" She gestured to her strong frame. "No, I worked hard for this. Training long hours, getting knocked down and getting back up again every single Inferi damned time. Just because I didn't do it here in the arena, doesn't mean it didn't happen."

I considered her words. Maybe she had a point.

"Let them talk," Rena urged, her voice full of determination. "You just keep pushing yourself, and one day you'll prove them all wrong."

"Maybe," I admitted, though doubt clenched in my heart. "Or maybe they're right, and I'm just fooling myself."

"Only one way to find out," Rena replied, giving me a small smile.

"Right," I agreed, wiping my sweaty palms on my tunic. I sighed. "Let's get back to training."

She nodded, but hesitated before walking away. "You're up early to train before morning meal, aren't you?"

"Every day," I said with a sigh.

"Good. Tomorrow, I'll join you. I have a few ideas that might help you."

The sun was a relentless eye, bearing down on me as I struggled to keep my balance in the gladiatorial arena. It had been a week since I began training under the watchful gaze of Rena, and every day felt like an exercise in futility. My muscles ached from exertion, sweat coated my brow, and my heart pounded in my chest like a desperate prisoner. But what pained me the most was my pride – bruised and battered from losing every sparring match I'd participated in.

"Focus, Livia!" Rena called out, her voice sharp and authoritative. "You're letting your emotions get the better of you."

I gritted my teeth, trying to ignore the whispers of doubt that crept into my mind. I wanted desperately to become a gladiator, to seek vengeance against the Emperor for all he had done to my family and countless others. But the path before me seemed steeped in failure, each step more difficult than the last.

"Again," Rena commanded, and I squared off against yet another opponent, my legs trembling with fatigue.

"Remember what Marcus told you," I muttered under my breath, recalling the stolen nights spent with him, where we whispered secrets and shared dreams of freedom. He had tried to teach me some of his techniques, but it seemed that no matter how hard I practised, I still couldn't grasp the art of combat.

"Enough talk, fight!" my opponent barked, lunging at me with her wooden sword.

I dodged, barely avoiding the blow, and tried to strike back. But my movements were clumsy and slow, and she easily parried my attack before landing a solid hit on my shoulder. Pain flared through my body, but it was nothing compared to the humiliation that burned within me.

"Damn it!" I cursed, grasping my injured arm. The frustration bubbled inside me, threatening to boil over.

"Control your anger, Livia," Rena warned, her gaze never leaving me. "It will only burden you in battle."

"Easy for you to say!" I spat back, glaring at her. "You're not the one getting beaten every single time!"

"True," she replied, her voice remaining infuriatingly calm. "But I also didn't let my emotions cloud my judgement when I was in your position. I learned from my mistakes and grew stronger because of them."

Her words stung, but I knew she was right. My desire for vengeance, my need to prove myself, it was all holding me back. I took a deep breath, forcing myself to calm down. I couldn't change the past, but I could shape my future – and that meant becoming the best gladiator I could be.

"Alright," I said, determination filling my voice. "Let's do this again." I could feel sweat trickling down my back as I squared off against Rena, my heart thundering like an impatient war drum. My grip tightened around the hilt of my wooden sword, knuckles whitening.

"Keep your stance low and centred," Rena instructed, her voice steady and focused. She held her weapon with practised ease, a confident smirk playing on her lips. "And remember to breathe."

I gritted my teeth, trying to ignore the humiliating defeats that haunted me. The countless losses against my fellow trainees, even my stolen nights with Marcus, had done nothing to help me improve my skills. I was still the same pathetic fighter I'd been when I started this hellish journey.

"Enough talk," I growled, lunging towards Rena with all my pent-up frustration.

"Predictable," she taunted, effortlessly sidestepping my attack. Her foot shot out, tripping me, and I hit the ground with a painful thud. The wind knocked out of me, I gasped for air, tasting dust and defeat.

"Get up," Rena ordered, looming over me like an unyielding shadow. I clenched my fists, fury surging through my veins as I scrambled to my feet.

"Again," I demanded, my voice trembling with barely-contained rage.

"Fine," she replied, her eyes narrowing with determination. "But don't say I didn't warn you."

Rena moved with the fluid grace of a predator, her strikes swift and precise. Each parry left my arms aching, each dodge sent waves of pain through my battered body. But I refused to give in; I couldn't let her see how much she'd beaten me down.

"Is that all you've got?" I snarled, my vision blurring as I fought through the pain.

"Hardly," Rena replied, her smirk turning into a cold smile. With one final, devastating blow, she knocked the wooden sword from my grasp, sending it flying across the training grounds. Defeated and disarmed, I sank to my knees, the humiliation burning like acid in my chest.

"Pathetic," Rena sneered, her eyes gleaming with satisfaction. But then something shifted in her gaze; a flicker of sympathy, perhaps, or maybe pity. She offered me a hand, pulling me to my feet.

She looked down at me for a moment, her head slightly cocked to one side as if she was sizing me up. "Now, let's focus on your footwork and speed first. You're smaller than most gladiators, so you need to use that to your advantage."

I raised an eyebrow at her, my pride still stinging from our previous bout, but I nodded nonetheless. We began circling each other, swords at the ready. The sound of fire hardened wood against wood echoed through the empty training grounds as we exchanged a series of rapid blows. My muscles burned with exertion, sweat dripping down my forehead and stinging my eyes.

"Stay light on your feet," Rena instructed, her voice firm yet patient. "Anticipate my moves and react quickly."

"I'm trying!" I snapped, frustration bubbling in my chest as she easily parried yet another one of my strikes.

"Focus," she urged, her tone softening. "You've got this, Livia."

"Fine," I muttered, gritting my teeth and forcing myself to breathe. Calming my mind, I honed in on Rena's movements, watching for the subtle shifts in her weight that signaled her next attack. As my focus sharpened, I found it easier to react and counter her strikes.

"Better," Rena acknowledged, a hint of approval in her voice. "Now, try using your dexterity to create openings. Think about where I'm vulnerable and exploit it."

"Like this?" I asked, feinting an attack towards her left shoulder before quickly changing direction and sending a quick jab towards her exposed side.

"Exactly," Rena confirmed, narrowly parrying my strike. "Keep it up."

The sparring continued, each moment a whirlwind of clashing swords and grunts of exertion. Rena's guidance was relentless yet invaluable, her words driving me to push beyond my limits. As the sun dipped lower in the sky, casting long shadows across the training grounds, I sensed a shift within myself - a newfound confidence born from the knowledge that I could hold my own against someone as skilled as Rena.

"Alright," Rena said finally, stepping back and lowering her weapon. "That's enough for today. You've made progress, Livia."

"Thanks," I replied, my chest heaving as I tried to catch my breath. The words felt foreign on my tongue, but I meant them. For once, I wasn't drowning in self-doubt and frustration.

"Same time tomorrow?" Rena asked, her eyes twinkling with a strange mix of warmth and challenge.

"Absolutely," I agreed.