After the Spartan Games, everything returned to its usual cycle. Days blurred into a monotonous stream: grueling training, a meager midday meal, and endless hours of idleness. We had food now, yes but with each theft, the missing rations became more noticeable, and so did the suspicion.
The number of night guards increased sharply. Now they stood not only outside, but inside the barracks as well. Stealing food became harder with each passing day, and most of our time was spent just waiting for the right moment. But hunger no longer tormented us we looked stronger, had gained back our strength, and no longer resembled the withered shadows we once were.
Arethid kept asking how we managed to get food, but none of us ever answered. No persuasion, no added punishments could force us to give up the secret. Better to suffer in silence than to feel the gnawing emptiness of hunger again.
But not all of our raids went smoothly.One night, deep into the darkness, we slipped toward the kitchens and noticed something strange. Not a single guard nearby. The silence was too thick, too unnatural. At first, I thought I was being paranoid. But the moment we stepped inside, we realized. We were caught.
It was a trap. We had been cornered, exposed. Our secret passage was secret no more.
"You continue to surprise me, Damocles," came Creon's voice.
He stood before us, arms crossed, a satisfied smirk playing on his lips as we lined up in front of him.
"This was your plan, wasn't it?" he asked with a grin.
"How did you know?" I asked, trying to keep the tension from my voice.
The lochagos raised a brow, chuckling.
"You think I wouldn't notice five months of thievery?"
For a moment, his expression remained amused but then it shifted.
"You're right," he continued. "At first, I paid it no mind. But I increased the guards… who, it seems, weren't clever enough to stop you. I waited for them to catch on, to spring a trap. But clearly, they lacked the wits."
He paused then added:
"One of you talked. They decided to catch you red-handed. And I… I will pass judgment."
Someone had broken.
I quickly looked around the line, trying to see who was missing. Then I remembered someone had complained of feeling ill earlier that day.He wasn't here now.
Creon caught the flicker of realization in my eyes and grinned.At that moment, the heavy drapes at the kitchen entrance parted and the traitor was brought in.
"For betraying your brothers and comrades," Creon said coldly, "you will not be rewarded. Your punishment will be worse than theirs… because you betrayed your own."
"But… but you said" he stammered, pale as death.
Creon smiled.
"Military deception."
"No food for the next three days. Twenty-five lashes each. They are to be tied to the post for twenty-four hours," he ordered, his voice even.
Without another word, he turned and walked away.
The moment the order was given, we were bound and chained to the wooden posts.
Pain struck like lightning.The first lash tore the skin, opening a deep wound. Then another. And another. Each strike ignited a fire that spread through every nerve but our weak, battered bodies could not fight back. All we could do was clutch the post until our fingers ached.Because screaming was not an option.
If you scream the lashes increase.
No matter how unbearable it got, our mouths stayed shut.
With every blow, my mind drifted deeper into the abyss of pain.
Everything blurred. Black spots danced in my eyes, hot blood streamed down my back and splattered on the dry earth. But the torture didn't end. If anything, it grew worse.
My back felt like it was engulfed in flame. The only hope left was this: Let it end. Let it just end.
*
You are experiencing excruciating pain. Your talent Endurance and ability Rock have fused, creating a new trait:
Rock strength +3 Defense. You can ignore pain when wounded. Bleeding is reduced by 20%.
*
I felt the pain subside just a little.
My breathing was still heavy and ragged, but slowly, it steadied. My whole body throbbed, every cell burning, but I knew this wasn't the end.
It was only a small reprieve.
But the torment had not been worth it.
**********************************************
"Promising boy, wouldn't you say, Arethid?" Creon remarked, gazing at the child bound to the post.
"Yes, Lochagos. He learns quickly and has the heart of a fighter," Arethid replied. Creon let out a thoughtful hum.
"At his age, I wouldn't have thought to dig a tunnel to the kitchens. Tell me, old man, do you recall anything like this before?"
Arethid paused for a moment, then shook his head.
"Nothing comes to mind. Usually they just stole food openly, or took it from the older boys. More often, they fought for an extra piece during midday rations."
Creon smirked, folding his arms across his chest.
"Well then… let's see what he comes up with next. Seems this generation has a knack for surprises."
"I agree, Lochagos. And there's anothe Kratos. He's quite gifted by nature," Arethid added with a nod.
But Creon's expression darkened.
"I'm not sure…" he murmured.
He had seen warriors like that before. And there was always something… not human about them.
Throughout his life, Creon had encountered those who didn't belong to this world beasts, demons, even gods. He knew one truth well: There are powers beyond the reach of mortal men.
And whatever force slept inside that boy it wasn't granted by any common birth.
"You think his father's from the pantheon?" Arethid asked quietly.
"Not our concern," Creon replied with a shake of his head. "Mortals shouldn't meddle in the affairs of gods. If they want him… they'll come for Kratos themselves."
"Yes, sir."
****************************
I am eight years old and I've already walked the path of a warrior for a full year.
After we were caught, bound, and starved for three long days, I did something truly cruel for the first time. Something that still echoes inside me.
The boy who betrayed us now lies in an unmarked grave outside the camp. Sometimes I visit, just to think about the choices I've made.
I chose to lead and that meant making decisions. He betrayed us. No one saw him as a brother after that. I didn't hate him. I would've just spat at him and let fate decide.
But Damipp forced my hand.
He was strangled in the night. His cold body was dragged beyond the camp and buried in a nameless pit. No marker. No name.
Only I left a stone behind. Arethid said nothing. But in his silence, there was no judgment only quiet acknowledgment.
Only then did I understand Creon's words: "And your punishment will be worse than the others… for you betrayed your own."
I hadn't noticed the change within me.
There was no fear anymore.
No doubt.No morality.No pity.
Only the lessons of Sparta.