Michael and Charlie followed Ptolemy through the seventh floor, which still retained all of its maze-like qualities seen on other floors. Nonetheless, Ptolemy was navigating through it with ease. After all, he was a resident of the floor for the last few hundred years; at least, according to him.

“So, how do you guys get all of this stuff?” Michael asked, seeing far more furniture laid out than on the other floors; not to mention the clothes, food, and other resources that had to have come from somewhere. Michael, despite seeing it with his own eyes, sill couldn't believe that people were living in Tartarus as if it were some sort of five-star hotel.

“We have a group of runners who gather resources on other floors. Sometimes Harut visits us as well and sells us goods.” Ptolemy explained, gesturing with his hands extravagantly like some showman.

“But…Doesn’t the fog door disappear after you pass into another floor?” Charlie asked.

Ptolemy turned around, walking backward as he gave his explanation. “Yes! However, there are still many ways to traverse Tartarus. You see, there exists an object known as a Recall Stone, which allows the user to transport their body back to a previous floor! So, our runners are always equipped with one to ensure their safe journey back.”

Michael looked from his left then to his right, realizing he hadn't spotted any hostile demons, skeletons, or anything of the sort. “And what about the enemies? Are there none on this floor?”

Ptolemy chuckled while bobbing his head. "Ah, there are enemies. In fact, they should be reappearing within the next hour or so. We have hunters for that.”

“So the enemies respawn on Tartarus like some video game?” Charlie questioned.

“Video game? Anyway, yes. Once every twenty-four Earth hours, new enemies make themselves known.”

“Interesting.” Charlie whispered.

These guys have everything figured out, huh?

The trio then walked through a set of double doors to find themselves in a grand dining hall. There was a singular table long enough to sit dozens of individuals; many of which were already seated, conversing with each other while taking the occasional glance at their two new guests.

Ptolemy made yet another grand gesture, this time flourishing his arms toward the long, rectangular dining table. “As our special guests, you both may be seated at the head of the table!” Ptolemy pulled two chairs that were side by side at the short end of the dining table, prompting the two of them to sit. Charlie and Michael shared a glance before placing themselves in their seats. Those at the table continued their conversations as if guests were but a regular occurrence; meanwhile, Ptolemy hovered over the two of them with an ear-to-ear grin.

“Well, then, I have some errands I need to take care of. If this is the last time we speak, I would like to say good luck on your adventure if so you choose to continue to embark on the journey of climbing Tartarus!”

“Thanks.”

“See you.”

Ptolemy walked away, and the moment he closed the double doors behind him, Michael and Charlie revealed what they were both thinking.

“He’s odd.” Michael whispered, glaring at those whom he was sharing a table with. Men, women, and the elderly were seated among one another, chattering with each other like relatives. It was a strange sight to see, especially considering the fact that they were supposed to be in Hell, home of the worst of the worst.

Charlie agreed with Michael's words, nodding their head before speaking quietly. “Yeah, very strange. I thought he was leading us into some sort of trap, I can’t lie.”

Michael chuckled calmly. “Yeah, I was ready to blast him away the moment he tried anything.”

Like machines, twelve men wearing uniforms burst from one of the doors leading from the kitchen, each one carrying trays with cloches atop them. As if they were all synced, the men placed dishes in front of each member of the dinner table and lifted the covers, revealing an incredible display of meat, potatoes, and vegetables. The sight of the food wiped away any and all doubts that were shared between Michael and Charlie. From inside their shared body, Mike was growing jealous that he wasn't the one partaking in this glorious feast.

Michael, Charlie, and the rest of the patrons ate to their hearts' content. Perhaps it was due to not having a meal in such a long time, but Michael felt as if this was the greatest-tasting meal he'd ever had in his life. This thought was evident by the way he devoured his meal in just a few minutes, leaving only small crumbs from the meat's crust.

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After dinner, Michael and Charlie were escorted to a small room, one similar in size to a college dorm. There were makeshift sleeping bags inside, appearing sewn together from used clothes. Despite the shoddy nature of these sleeping bags, they appeared far cozier than sleeping on the ground. They were both given extra, comfier clothes to sleep in, but the two of them opted to sleep in their mage gear just in case they needed to fight.

Before long, they found themselves lying on their backs, staring up at the ceiling with sleepless eyes. Neither of them could sleep, though for their own reasons. Michael didn't trust Ptolemy, and neither did Mike who wouldn't shut up about it from within the body. However, Charlie's insomnia was due to their indecisiveness.

Michael looked over at Charlie, seeing the uncertainty written all over their face. "What's wrong." he asked.

Charlie turned their head, making eye contact with Michael. Their eyes were solemn, growing more so the moment they locked onto Michael's. "I was thinking about what Ptolemy said earlier..." Charlie admitted. "And I’ve been considering staying here. On floor seven, I mean.”

Michael's body shot forward. “But why?”

“You heard what Ptolemy said, right? We have no idea what’s out there. I don’t want to get sent down to the Inferno, whatever the hell that means. I’d rather stay here with all of these kind people and have delicious meals and stuff… I never liked fighting. I don’t like fighting without reason. No one even knows what’s at the top of Tartarus.”

“Well, I do. I know exactly what’s up there.”

“And how would you know that?” Charlie asked standoffishly.

Michael took a breath, lying back down in his sleeping bag before starting up at the ceiling. “Because when Mike and I died, we spoke to an angel from Heaven. She told us that in order for Mike and I to have our souls separated, we needed to reach the top of Tartarus. Once there, I can sign an appeal to have my soul transported to Heaven. Mike can as well, though Petra was unsure if it was due to his past sins. If we fight, we can make it to Heaven. I'm sure you could too.”

Charlie shook their head, still uncertain. “But it’s not guaranteed. We don’t even know how many floors are in Tartarus. We could barely make it to floor seven on our own. Making it all the way to the top sounds impossible."

“But we made it!" Michael exclaimed. "We just have to get stronger! You’ve seen it with your own eyes, right? You’ve gotten stronger. I’ve gotten stronger. When I first entered Tartarus, I was useless. I couldn’t even kill a single skeleton. Now look at me, I can kill giant snakes made of ice in two hits!”

Charlie sighed, turning their body to face away from Michael. “I’m not as strong as you..." Charlie whispered. "And I don’t think I can be.”

“Do you want to know how I got so strong?” Michael asked.

“How?” Charlie still remained facing away from Michael, staring at the wooden door to their room instead.

“Because I gave myself something to strive for.”

“What? Getting to Heaven?”

“Not just to get to Heaven. I want to meet my brother again. Every time I cast a spell, I think to myself, ‘This is for Marcus’. The only way I can find him and apologize for being too weak to protect him is to become strong enough to ascend Tartarus. Even then, I have my own selfish reasons. I want to prove to Mike that I’m not some weak, snot-nosed brat incapable of protecting himself. And I–” Michael stopped himself. He'd barely known Charlie, yet he'd nearly confessed his feelings for them. Nonetheless, Michael could only hold his tongue for a single moment before speaking his mind."

“I want to protect you. I don’t know why, but you’re part of the reason why I’ve been able to keep going. Whenever I’m on the brink of giving up, I think about what I would do with myself if you were to get hurt out there…”

Bold.

Charlie quickly turned to Michael, seeing the sincerity written across his face. They weren't sure how to feel; his words were all so sudden and they were hard to process. “But we barely even know each other.” Charlie muttered, hiding their face inside the sleeping bag, revealing only their eyes.

“I know." Michael whispered. "I don’t know why I feel this way but I do. But if I don’t have you with me on this journey, I’ll lose part of what keeps me going.”

For a moment, neither of them said a word. However, this silence was broken by a handful of words as Charlie once again turned their back toward Michael.

“I guess you better find an alternative. I’m sorry.”

Ouch. That one even hurt me.

Michael felt as if his body had just been shot, and then shattered into ten million shards like a broken window. "I see..." Michael whispered. He hid the pain from his voice as best he could, but it was evident that Charlie's words stung. "Well, I'm going to keep going. So, I guess we'll be saying goodbye to each other tomorrow."

"I guess so." Charlie whispered.

For the rest of the night, not a word was exchanged between the two. Though it was obvious that Michael was hurt, he wasn't the only one lost in thought. Mike shared his body; therefore, shared his pain, even though it was just a fraction of it. Outside of that, Mike was starting to like Charlie; they reminded him of his daughter.

Then there was Charlie, thinking about Michael's words. 'Why did I have to meet him in a place like this of all things...' Charlie thought.

'It's not fair.'