B2 Chapter 62: Place Your BetsQuintus shifted his grip on the gladius in his hand as he stood. He was unable to move his right leg more than a few inches at a time or put much weight on it. Three enemies still stood before him, two of them almost entirely unhurt. The thraex’s body still lay unmoving in the sand nearby, the hole in its chest apparently enough to have taken it out of the battle. Then again, that was what he’d assumed about the retiarius with its nearly severed leg—and that assumption had cost him.He scanned the arena and spotted his spear laying forgotten on the ground. But it was too far away from his position to be of any use right now. Nor would he be able to retrieve his shield without making himself vulnerable, especially not if he wanted to untangle it from the net.The centurion’s eyes narrowed. The murmillo and secutor before him bore heavy shields and, compared to the others, were relatively well-armored. One relied on endurance to carry him to victory, while the other tried to end fights quickly in order to avoid being tired out.Under normal circumstances, Quintus would have felt comfortable leading them around the arena to exhaust them. Then, he’d be able to take advantage and finish them off one by one. But there was no telling if the automatons would tire like real humans would. Not to mention his own current handicap.His only saving grace was how full of holes their teamwork was. He’d suspected as much at the start, but now he was confident—the enemies before him were not a team. [Group Tactics] had given him even greater insight into their coordination or lack thereof. True, they worked together to herd him around and control his movements, but their attacks (...)