There was a moment of pause when Jonas stared blankly at the bowl of rat stew, and he was having a hard time processing his feelings. Simon had offered him food before, but Jonas had politely declined. It had not made him feel the same way he was feeling at that moment. Simon didn’t look just pleasing to Jonas’ eye, he looked downright saintly. After a deep breath, Jonas found his voice.

“No way. There isn’t enough food per day to be giving it out.”

“Oh take it,” said Simon modestly and his calm facial expression gave Jonas the illusion that he didn’t even need sustenance, “You need the calories more than me right now. Go on, you can just pay me back once you’re rolling in good food,” and seeing that Jonas wasn’t going to take it, Simon began to tip the bowl, “I’ll dump it, Jonas, don’t test me.”

“Okay, okay,” Jonas gave in and quickly grabbed the bowl before it could be poured out, “Thank you,” and then he sipped the soup carefully as if it was his last meal.

“Don’t worry about it,” Simon said, “It’s just nasty water, rat meat, and old vegetables, nothing to get worked up over.”

“I’m going to pay you back,” Jonas swore, “I’m going to put Ahmed on his ass, and I’m going to become a fighter. You have my word.”

“I know you will,” said Simon, “I like investing in my friends.”

That night Jonas tried again to get into contact with Pride, but it seemed that his mysterious friend wasn’t in the mood to have a conversation, and Jonas even considered that maybe he needed to take another serious beatdown to meet with him.

‘Perhaps he’s busy recovering after showing me those memories?’ Jonas considered the idea, and perhaps waiting was a good thing because it could result in him being able to see more memories of his past or learn new secrets. Although he still swore not to think about what had been revealed, there was a growing suspicion that Pride might be right, but the prospect of him being a Hellite was too much to handle and he needed to focus on the task at hand, not be burdened with anxiety and depression.

Ahmed was not gentle with Jonas the next day, and it put him under the impression that the old warrior was starting to take their bet much more seriously than he had before, “So much wasted movement,” mocked Jonas as he got lucky and dodged one of Ahmed’s punches, and in return, he earned a bone-cracking kick to the ribs that would probably take all night to heal.

Ahmed was starting to lose his composure, just slightly. The day before he had been in disbelief but now he had no excuses to ignore the fact that Jonas was steadily improving at a rate so alarming it destroyed the foundation of everything he had known.

It had only taken five days, but Jonas had already managed to land two clean hits and eat a few attacks without being sent flying. For the first time since he had agreed to the bet, Ahmed wasn’t feeling completely confident in the fact that Jonas had no chance to win, “What’s the matter?” Jonas asked as he pulled himself off the ground and faced his opponent. His body was robust, and Ahmed could see that he had somehow managed to bulk up within a few days, albeit he was still very thin compared to the other fighters.

“How have you been improving so quickly?” Ahmed asked skeptically but he almost immediately regretted his lapse in judgment because when he saw the shit-eating grin on Jonas’ pretty face, he felt a burst of rage that made him feel like beating the shit out of the young slave.

“The same way you did,” said Jonas, “Fighting someone weaker than myself,” and Simon nearly dropped a turtle in the sand as he clenched his butt cheeks and looked at his friend in disbelief. Ahmed was becoming visibly annoyed as a vein was throbbing in his forehead and his sharp knuckles involuntarily clenched. His Sin Scars were glowing brightly, a rage was coming.

“If you’re so confident,” said Ahmed, “Let me show you what my opponents see when they face me in the cage,” and he moved quicker than Jonas had ever seen him move, and he cleared the distance between the two in a blink of an eye.

Jonas felt his head nearly explode upon the impact of the first punch, but as if his body had accepted the challenge, he flinched minimally. Then, he managed to narrowly scrape by the second punch, and he twisted his body around Ahmed’s outstretched punching arm and used his elbow to swing his momentum towards the back of his opponent.

Ahmed made to dodge what he assumed was an elbow but instead, Jonas stuck out his foot at a strange angle which caught the back of Ahmed’s ankle. The old warrior lost his balance and fell backward on his ass.

The trio said no words and for a moment the only sounds that could be heard were heavy breathing and the distant groans and screams from the other fight pits. Ahmed looked up at Jonas in disbelief, and Jonas looked down at him calmly.

For a split second, Jonas thought that Ahmed might kill him, as he could see the intent in the old fighter’s eyes, and it made his neck tingle for a moment. However, it was as if reason had won out in Ahmed’s heart and he let out a deep red breath and pulled himself to his feet.

“Good move,” he said quietly, and added, “Simon, you’re up,” Jonas didn’t rub his victory in. He had already proved his point, and to the victor went the spoils.

He sat on the sideline for some rest as he watched Ahmed and Simon fistfight for a few minutes, and it appeared as if Ahmed was going easy on the rat-faced man, “Did you notice what Jonas did?” he asked minutes later when Simon was sitting next to Jonas.

“He tripped you?”

“Obviously,” said Ahmed who looked slightly annoyed, “I mean do you understand how he tripped me?”

Stolen story; please report.

“Not exactly,” Simon admitted freely, he wasn’t much of a fighter, and both of them had been moving extremely quickly.

“He used my arrogance against me,” said Ahmed, “When he spun around to flank my backside, he knew that I would assume his next attack was an elbow, and he guessed that my instinct would be to dodge, why?” and Simon thought hard for a moment.

“Because,” he began, “That’s what you usually do when someone attacks you from a position you're uncomfortable in,” said Simon, “You tend to sort of dodge away from the attack instead of blocking or parrying it.”

“Exactly,” said Ahmed, “Jonas knew that I’d dodge, and he even guessed which direction my dodge would be by judging my body positioning, and instead of elbowing me, he simply stuck his leg out at the right angle and tripped me,” there was no expression in his face, but if Jonas wasn’t crazy, it almost seemed like Ahmed was praising him. Simon looked at his friend with a surprised expression, he felt like Jonas had come a long way in such a short time.

“I’ll admit this, Jonas,” began Ahmed, “You’re a lot better than I gave you credit for. However,” he added, “This doesn’t change the fact that you’re going to lose the bet two days from now, and you’ll still have to leave your left hand here in the sand.”

“And you’ll still have to bring me a beer every day,” quipped Jonas as he stood up for another round of sparring. Jonas spent the rest of the day focusing on trying to predict Ahmed’s moves but unfortunately, he was unable to perform it as well as he had done before.

By the fifth day, Jonas had been thrown on his ass more times than he could count, but he was extremely pleased with his progress. Much later, he and Simon were back in their cages and they were working through their routine once more, where Jonas would exercise dutifully in his cage, and Simon would provide him with extra calories.

“You’re going to starve,” said Jonas guiltily as he sucked back his second helping of rat stew.

“I think I’ll manage two more days,” said Simon, “Plus, I saved some of my porridge from this morning.”

“Yeah,” argued Jonas, “But you also gave me your apple.”

“I got to keep the glass of water didn’t I?” Simon said in an obvious attempt at being optimistic.

“You’re a good man, Simon,” said Jonas, “I’m sorry you had so much shit thrown your way.”

“No worries,” Simon looked mildly surprised at the fact someone had felt sorry for him, “My kid is on the fifth floor right now living it up with the Angels, and my wife is probably living with a new family, and I wouldn’t blame her if she did,” he sighed, “Hell is a harsh place to try surviving alone.”

“Very true,” said Jonas and he couldn’t help but wonder what his brother was doing. “Simon,” he said, “What happens when someone is sent to the sixth floor,” for a moment Simon didn’t reply as he considered the question.

“I can’t be sure,” he said, which made Jonas feel disappointed, “But I’m assuming it’s extremely similar to the first floor of Hell, but the main difference being that the humans you have to deal with are much crueler, and the number of Sinners is probably much greater, I mean, they don’t call it the Underworld for no reason.”

“Why would you assume that?”

“Haven’t you realized yet that there is a correlation between Sinners, and how evil someone is?” Simon pointed out, “I can only imagine that those truly evil humans who get sent to the lower levels of Hell must have an extremely easy time becoming Sinners.”

“So, no punishment for the wicked?” Jonas wondered out loud.

“Not exactly,” said Simon, “Some people come to Hell as decent people, and eventually they change, take Garth for example.”

“What do you mean, Garth?” Jonas asked curiously.

“Do you think a guy who’s that cruel would have been sentenced to the first floor?” This question made Jonas recall a conversation with Phillip Glatorius.

“Is he a Hellite?” Jonas asked.

“I don’t think so,” said Simon, “At least not from the rumors I heard.”

“Which are?” Jonas asked much more quietly.

“Garth accidentally let it slip one time that he had been a factory worker in his past life, and he even had a wife and kid.”

“What do you mean, let it slip?” Jonas asked, “I can’t see Garth giving out private information like that on purpose.”

“One of the dummy slaves that Garth used to have before he killed him, told me,” said Simon, “Garth is a bit earnest, to begin with, and he’s not a secretive person, and although he’s cruel, he’s just a simple brute.”

“I don’t think I would use the word earnest to describe Garth,” said Jonas darkly as the image of him humiliating Johnson was replayed in his mind. He instinctively looked over at the cage next to Simon’s, and there was a huddled figure lying in the fetal position. Johnson was still licking his wounds.

“From what I’ve seen so far, most Sinners whose Cardinal Sin is Wrath are extremely simple and earnest,” said Simon, “All they care about is satisfying their inner turmoil, they live by their anger and when they aren’t angry, they are easily understood.”

“I thought you didn’t know anything about Sin?” Jonas made a silly expression.

“I don’t,” Simon shook his head, “I’ve just observed a lot of Berserkers because if you haven't noticed, this place is full of them,” and Jonas had to agree.

“I can’t believe Garth had a family.”

“I’m not exactly sure if this is true,” said Simon, “But that slave told me, that Garth died by suicide,” he added mysteriously, “He came home from work one day and found his wife and child dead, and not just killed, but someone had raped them as well.”

“Christ,” whispered Jonas, “What happened?”

“Again,” repeated Simon, “I can’t be sure what is fact and what is fiction, but supposedly Garth went and found the people responsible, and brutally murdered them, and might’ve even raped them as I was told, but after he was done, he took a shotgun and blew his brains out.”

“And he was still sent to the first floor?” Jonas looked shocked at this revelation.

“He got revenge on a group of people who had raped and murdered his wife and child,” said Simon, “I don’t think any demon judge could have found him guilty for that.

“Still,” said Jonas, “He’s a bit of a sadist isn’t he?”

“Probably couldn’t let go of his hate and anger,” said Simon, “If he was in so much pain and anguish that he would kill himself, I can only assume that waking up to find out that he had to spend the rest of eternity with that pain would drive him insane.”

“I could see that,” Jonas agreed.

“His kid would have gone to the fifth floor like mine, and his wife would have been somewhere here on the first floor, but it would be impossible to find her, and he probably searched and searched until eventually he was either captured by the Hurts gang or willingly turned himself into a gladiator.”

“Do you think anyone would willingly turn themselves into a cage fighter?” Jonas looked slightly bewildered.

“Sure,” said Simon, “You’re about to do it yourself, aren’t you now?”