Agrippa Florius Ursacius was a commentator. The term was new to Onyxfell, having been only introduced within the past ten years by one of the Charus heroes.
The Stadalites, Agrippa Florius Ursacius included, weren't too fond of the Charus Kingdom. No, those fucking idiots tended to be loud, obnoxious, and above all else, weak. They enjoyed Victory, just as the followers of Sateus did, but their notions of it were so strange! Rather than allow a crushed opponent to recover, creating the possibility of future Victories, the Chars seemed to believe that Victory was a state that could be sustained indefinitely, as they'd shown in their single-minded obsession in eradicating and enslaving the elves.
Like many in Onyxfell, Agrippa Florius Ursacius didn't especially care what happened to the elves. They'd always been a quiet, insular race, preferring to live in isolation in the forests and the caves underground rather than to interact with humans, or so the stories went. If they wanted to be left alone for so long, they could get fucked and die alone for all The Empire cared.
Victory came only to those who were brave enough to commit themselves fully to seeking it.
Such was the case in today's long-awaited race at The Lower Track. Oppius Sabucius Commidus, a favorite here for the past ten months since he'd managed to get thirty points in Accreeriation, had been talking shit about Marcus Camelius Belenus from The Upper Track for the last several weeks almost nonstop, and it seemed to have finally yielded the reaction he'd wanted, with the famed brother of Scutum Impervium coming right back to talk shit about Commidus, a rare cross-city rivalry that had exploded over the past week.
Agrippa Florius Ursacius couldn't be happier as he shouted out the events of the race. "Commidus spikes the rear wheel of Leddica, and she's—No! Yes! Yes, she's out of the race!" The crowd's cheers rang out at the proclamation; there were now only two drivers remaining, and they were the same two who had drawn everyone to The Lower Track on this day.
The seventeen year-old Commidus was first in The Lower Track's rankings, try as Leddica might to claim Victory over him again and again. He'd been born and raised into D-five, and nearly everyone in the district could recall him driving recklessly down the streets without regard to any who were passing by, taking the often-crowded roads of the city's second-most populous district as a challenge to his skills and the efforts he and his crew of builders had put into the cars that he drove. He'd taken to the races naturally after spending a year training in The Arena to some success, and Victories at The Lower Track had been his for the taking.
He had chosen his opponent from The Upper Track boldly, as was the way of the young. Marcus Camelius Belenus was a veteran of the more prestigious racing track from D-one, having moved on from The Arena shortly after his brother's death by the hand of Scorpio Fulminis. There had been all manner of rumors about the change—that he saw his brother's spirit any time he entered The Arena being the most popular—but driving seemed to suit him more than combat ever did. He'd managed to remain within the top three of The Upper Track's rankings since his debut six years ago, thriving even more with the advent of the more aggressive, combat-oriented style of driving that Secundus Appuleius Photius had pioneered.
"Belenus attempts a strike with his fuscina, but no! Commidus has studied his opponent well! He deflects!"
The crowd, seeming to be split fairly evenly in their Victory-seeking, continued to voice their approval for what was likely to be the biggest spectacle at The Lower Track this season.
"Commidus has invoked his rank three skill, Mirror Cutting Slicer!" Agrippa Florius Ursacius called gleefully, watching the younger contender's hasta triple in size. "How will—Belenus retaliates with his own rank three skill, Murderous Dark Destruction!" The older driver's fuscina blurred, forming an impenetrable wall as it spun in the air. "It's not for nothing that he's the brother of Scutum!"
"Fucking hit him already, Commidus!" screamed a woman near Agrippa Florius Ursacius's position at the side of the track.
"Belenus lashes out… It's his rank five skill, Darkness Dissolver!" The older driver's car vanished for a moment, reappearing underneath that of Commidus and flipping the younger driver's car over.
"It doesn't seem like he'll be able to recover!" Agrippa Florius Ursacius screamed, jumping up and down with excitement at having seen the skill in action during this race after Commidus's shit-talking comments about Belenus only being in The Upper Track after using this very ability to sneak in.
Miraculously, however, or perhaps because of his commitment to unseating Belenus and taking the man's place in The Upper Track, Commidus leaned out over the side of his narrow car and pushed off fiercely with one arm against the track's surface, a feat of strength that only a gladiator who had spent months in search of elusive stat points could manage.
"No! He does!" Agrippa Florius Ursacius yelled. "Commidus pushes off with one hand, rights his car, and now he's once again in contention! D-five may still have the opportunity to claim Victory in this race!" The displays of excitement from the crowd intensified.
It was moments like this that Agrippa Florius Ursacius lived for. He'd grown up in D-two with the aspiration to be a gladiator and seek victory in The Arena, as most children of Onyxfell dreamed of doing, but he'd had his dreams crushed. At the age of sixteen it had become official: he was Systemless.
A rare affliction since The System had arrived, Agrippa Florius Ursacius was one of the few in Onyxfell who were unable to gain stat points. If the sixteenth year arrived without a person gaining a single point in any attribute or class, it was known that they never would. On that day that The System appeared, everyone sixteen and older had immediately gained at least one point in a stat or class, save for those who were Systemless.
Fourteen years had passed since then, and in that time, Agrippa Florius Ursacius had been faced with the choice of continuing to live with his parents in order to be eligible to remain in D-two, which required its residents to possess at least fifteen stat points in total, or to move out on his own and be relegated to D-five, the only district which had no requirements for residence or entry. He'd needed to find work, and he'd needed something which didn't require the abilities that The System provided. About all anyone could accomplish without stats was talking, and it had been due to his good fortune that he'd been able to gain a job as one of the first commentators at either of the racing tracks, a role that was created and enabled by that same Char hero who had created the tracks themselves.
Agrippa Florius Ursacius said his thanks to the hero every day for creating something that could be accomplished by a Systemless person like himself.
Now, however, he said his thanks to Sateus for allowing him to witness such an incredible race. Commidus was tired now, the strength required to fend off the ten other drivers and reach this point sapping his endurance. He struck out with a weak blow of his hasta as he caught up to Belenus, who seemed to be in no hurry to grasp his Victory. The older driver casually blocked it, yawning as a further taunt.
Agrippa Florius Ursacius narrated the events with finesse, as he always did. "Belenus seems bored by the furious attempted revenge of Commidus! While Commidus seems to have the edge in speed, Belenus has always found victory in the skirmish, preventing any from passing him! It's down to just the two of them now, fellow Victory-seekers!"
The drivers rounded a curve, each of them focusing on the driving component of the race for the moment, and Belenus, whether by driving technique or a System-provided skill he hadn't disclosed, pulled ahead, as he frequently managed to do in such cases.
"There it is, the signature maneuver of Belenus! We've just witnessed what an ex-gladiator with fifty three points in Iminter is capable of!" Agrippa Florius Ursacius didn't particularly know what fifty three points in Iminter was capable of himself, but the crowds loved it when he quoted the publicly-disclosed stats, so he always attempted to add them into his commentary.
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"They're coming around into the final stretch now," Agrippa Florius Ursacius called, quieting his voice to build tension and give the drivers time to shout their final challenges.
"I will attain victory for D-five!" Commidus yelled, sounding certain of himself despite his obvious exhaustion.
"No, Victory is already mine!" Belenus countered, taking the opportunity that his tired opponent had presented him with to target the wheels of the other car with one of the iacula that many drivers kept only as a backup weapon. Truly he had a flair for the dramatic, lessening the Victory of Commidus by using such a weak armament.
It was still more than enough, however. The iaculum punctured the front of the car, holding strong and flipping the vehicle over, sending young Commidus flying.
Agrippa Florius Ursacius grimaced as he saw the car of Belenus begin to swerve. He'd heard the stories, but seeing it happen before his eyes was different.
Marcus Camelius Belenus sought Victory, yes, but his was always a Victory that lessened the small Victory which could be found by defeated opponents. The races he entered tended to result in more injuries for other drivers, and they also managed to result in the wrecks of most of the other cars on the track, requiring that the drivers spend time and marks to rebuild before they were capable of racing again. Belenus himself was wealthy enough to afford repairing or building cars, but many drivers were not.
Commidus landed on the track, and Belenus drove over him, though it was difficult to say whether he'd been attempting to steer towards or away from the body due to its trajectory and the limited field of view that the car's mirrors provided.
"Victory to Belenus!" Agrippa Florius Ursacius called with excitement in his voice. His personal feelings on Victory had no bearing on his ability to do his job. "This is what a contender from The Upper Track is like, Victory-seekers! He's chosen to demonstrate his prowess today, answering the challenge of Commidus, and it seems that he does indeed have reason to be talking so much shit!" He spotted one of the track healers waving to him. "Before we hear his victory speech, let's see how Commidus fares."
Agrippa Florius Ursacius held his breath, but the healer raised a hand up instead of drawing it across their throat. "Ooh, what a result!" he called sincerely. "It seems Commidus from D-five won't be seeking his final victory quite yet! We'll look forward to more of his racing prowess in the future once he heals up!"
Belenus rose from his car and trotted over to the finish line, as was customary for those who had achieved Victory. "Belenus, any words for your admirers?" Agrippa Florius Ursacius called, engaging his role.
"I can't say much, as this was truly not a race with much difficulty for me," Belenus began. "I thank Sateus, as we all must, and, of course, my wife, Emma, Char though she may be."
Emma Charus walked out, wearing a low-cut dress of a gold color that caught the light and made her look almost like a deity. That the wealthy, stat-rich Marcus Camelius Belenus had wed himself to a Char—and a member of the royal family at that—was yet another source of speculation and gossip about him. The Chars were laughed at and ridiculed, sure, and they spent more time fucking than they did training to fight, yes, but they were good at fucking, or so the rumors went.
While there weren't many in the city, it was known that the most expensive brothel in the city had managed to import a selection of trained elves from the Chars, gaining both notoriety and riches beyond what anyone could imagine in what was surely a Victory of sorts for them. Some of the other wealthy possessed those types of elves as well, though they were always kept out of sight and away from the eyes of the public, generally to prevent them from being stolen.
So, too, did the rumors flow about the voluptuous Emma Charus—rumors that neither she nor her husband seemed to care about dispelling. It was said that after the first time he'd lain with her, Marcus Camelius Belenus had been unable to compete in a race for a full week, so drained was his vitality. It was said that they'd been caught fucking nearly everywhere they went together, as though Belenus had become fully afflicted by the madness that the Chars were known to succumb to. It was even said that he had, one time, managed to win a race in The Upper Track while she knelt between his legs in his car, tugging him towards Victory, in a certain sense.
Agrippa Florius Ursacius couldn't speak to the veracity of any of these rumors, but they made for great gossip when he gathered together with other commentators and drivers, and he enjoyed speculating about it just as much as anyone. He had no interest beyond gossip; his lover was Camillus Herminius Eburnus, a moderately well-known gladiator, and that was a Victory from which he wouldn't be distracted by even the prettiest of Char temptresses.
The mind of Agrippa Florius Ursacius tended to wander during the rambling Victory speeches given by some drivers. He had great respect for those who claimed their Victory, acknowledged the Victories of their opponents, and then departed, whether to greet their admirers or leave the track entirely, but those who stayed and pontificated about this or that, as Belenus was doing now in a long-winded talk that recounted the motivation he'd found to begin driving when his brother had been killed—a story so frequently told that most of those present could recite it verbatim—those types of speeches were not what Victory should sound like.
"Agrippa Florius!" came a loud whisper from behind him.
He turned and spotted a boy, likely one of those used as message runners, gesturing to him from behind the short stone wall that split the crowd from the track, and nodded to him. He couldn't speak while he wore the small device created by the Char hero that sent his voice cascading out to the crowd, so he was forced to use gestures to communicate while Belenus continued to speak, lest he accidentally interrupt.
The boy, who was around twelve or thirteen, scrambled over the wall, and Agrippa Florius Ursacius gestured to the nearby gladiator who was watching the crowd to continue about her business without tossing the youngster out.
"Agrippa Florius," the boy said again, his eyes sparkling with eagerness and his body shaking with excitement, "I have a message for you to deliver to the crowd."
Agrippa Florius Ursacius frowned with skepticism. The only messages he would deliver to the crowd would be news of a top-ranked gladiator's death or a decree from The Imperatrix, and the latter had never occurred in his time as a commentator. Which meant that a death had occurred? But there were no battles being fought to the death on this day. No rivalry had reached the same furor as the one six years ago that had led to the death of Marcus Tertinius Belenus.
"Flavinia Verina, who has the glory of guarding the gate to D-four today, has sent word to the city," the boy said breathlessly, "She's seen Scorpio Fulminis enter the city on this day! Scorpio Fulminis has returned!"
"WHAT?!" Agrippa Florius Ursacius bellowed, his eyes going wide and his hands moving to his head. "BOY, ARE YOU CERTAIN OF WHAT YOU SAY?"
The boy nodded quickly, his excitement growing at the commentator's reaction.
"Ah, as I was saying," Belenus continued, sounding annoyed.
"Fuck whatever you're saying," Agrippa Florius Ursacius said quickly, his mind racing through the possibilities. He turned to face the crowd, knowing that this would surely be the most important commentary he would deliver in his life. "Fellow Victory-seekers!" he called out, trying to imprint the moment into his memories. "Today we've come here to The Lower Track in order to witness a race!"
"That's right," Belenus said, now clearly angry, "and—"
"And I say to you that we will soon witness something far greater than a simple race like this one," Agrippa Florius Ursacius continued. "We will witness again the true Victory that only one who has never suffered a defeat can achieve!"
The crowd, which had been loudly talking among itself as crowds tended to do during extended speeches, slowly fell silent as Agrippa Florius Ursacius, a master of reading his crowd, paused in order to let his statement sink in.
In the known history of Onyxfell's Arena, which had existed for hundreds of years, there were only eleven gladiators who had ever managed to achieve Victory for an entire year of regularly-scheduled, thrice-a-week fights.
There were only three who had done the same for two.
In the entire history of gladiators, however, there was only one who had gone for just over six years without once being defeated.
Scorpio Fulminis had fought for six days every week in The Arena for six years and had found Victory on each occasion. No matter whether the opponent was one gladiator, ten gladiators, or even a thronging melee of a hundred other highly-ranked gladiators, none could claim Victory against Scorpio Fulminis.
"SCORPIO FULMINIS HAS RETURNED TO ONYXFELL AT LAST!" Agrippa Florius Ursacius shouted as loudly as he was capable.
The noise from the crowd at this declaration was so loud that he wanted cover his ears, but he couldn't. His arms were raised in the air and he yelled just as loudly, adding to the cacophony that rumbled the ground under his feet.
On this day, Agrippa Florius Ursacius once again thanked the Char hero for creating a place in which even a Systemless man like himself could achieve some manner of Victory. He felt on this occasion, however, that he was more grateful than he ever had been. Perhaps he would visit the small church to the Char hero's goddess one of these days; it was said that the goddess was the source of all that the hero had brought to Onyxfell.
Perhaps she deserved some thanks as well.