nside a dimly lit cave, a group of people sit huddled around glowing amphoras. These vessels are no ordinary pottery; they're meticulously painted with images of legendary wrestlers, engaged in eternal combat. The flickering light from a small fire casts these images onto the walls, animating the wrestlers in a primitive, captivating dance of shadows. The cave's inhabitants watch these images, interpreting the epic battles as the ultimate expression of wrestling. They debate the techniques, celebrate the victories, and mourn the defeats, all from the moving images on the amphoras. To them, these representations are the entirety of wrestling—there is no world beyond the wrestlers on the pottery. Nikostratos, ever the curious and skeptical cat, notices a sliver of light peeking through a crack in the cave wall. The murals and their tales don't satisfy his curiosity. One day, driven by a particularly pungent smell of the outside world—a mix of fresh earth and sweat—he finds a loose stone and wiggles his way through the crack.