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You are Koroibos, a humble cook from the nearby city of Elis. You stand at the stone starting line ( balbis ) of the stadium. Your feet are bare against the cool earth; your body is slick with olive oil, glistening like bronze in the morning light. There are no silver or bronze medals here—only the pursuit of arete , or excellence. To win is to be favored by the gods; to lose is a shadow that follows a man forever.

: In the Hippodrome, four-horse teams thunder around the posts, wheels splintering in "shipwrecks" that leave the crowd breathless. The Victor's Reward You are Koroibos, a humble cook from the nearby city of Elis

The Games grow with the centuries. By the 5th century BCE, the festival is a five-day spectacle of human limit: There are no silver or bronze medals here—only

: A "no-holds-barred" combat where only biting and eye-gouging are forbidden. It is the ultimate display of alké (strength). The Victor's Reward The Games grow with the centuries

The dust of Elis rises in a golden haze as thousands of travelers, from the rugged mountains of Macedon to the sun-drenched shores of Rhodes, converge on the sacred grove of Altis. It is the midsummer of 776 BCE, and the are about to begin.