Jonas pumped his bloodied fist in the air as the crowd screamed with delight, and he couldn’t help cracking a small grin over the fact that he had just defeated an opponent who had formerly been a top-five in the Marino gang. His demeanor resembled that of a king lion. As he looked down upon his loyal subjects, the members of the crowd reminded him of an African plain full of babbling baboons, heckling hyenas, and galloping gazelles.

He peaked at the luxury suite situated up above the crowd and built into the wall. Although the windows were tinted, he knew that behind them were the leaders of the various gangs, including Howard Hurts and Thomas Vale. It was in that suite that they bragged about their products and profits.

After one last celebration with the crowd, Jonas made his way out of the arena and towards Brow, who was smiling as if Christmas had come early.

“You fucking did it,” he kept saying as they walked back towards the lobby, “One year, and you managed to become a top-five fighter.”

“Not a top-five fighter, yet,” said Jonas quietly, “Not until I kill Wolf.”

“Well fuck,” said Brow, “Killing Wolf can come tomorrow, tonight you should drink and celebrate, you earned it!”

“I remember the old days when you would just call me a slave and force me back into my cage,” Jonas sighed reminiscently.

“Yeah, well,” Brow looked a bit embarrassed, “You need to evolve if you want to survive in Hell."

“Very true,” said Jonas.

"Nice job, by the way, biting his arm to get out of the headlock. I didn't see it happen, but I heard the way he screamed, and it was incredible. You must've got him good."

"Yeah," Jonas gave a fake laugh, but he knew for a fact that he hadn't bitten Michael Davis. Truthfully, he had no idea why his opponent had started screaming, but he assumed it had something to do with Sin, and that Pride would know.

The lobby doors were shut and the sound of the crowd was drowned out. Jonas and Brow made their way to the Fighter’s Barracks, chatting merrily as they went. Jonas was usually allowed to take a cold shower before and after a fight, and he needed to wash off all the blood and spit. After ten minutes, Jonas was led back to his cage.

“Beers and dinner will be by soon. Do you want me to send down a prostitute, or a bottle of liquor?” Brow was always more generous after a win, and he happily flexed his fingers to show off his diamond jewelry. Jonas' stomach lurched, he would never touch a sex slave, it was rape. It made him think about Yuki, and he wondered how she was doing.

"No prostitutes. I'll have beer, dinner, and send down some vodka. Please."

"Your loss," Brow shrugged and led Jonas back into the slave room. "I'll see you tomorrow, Jonas, good work."

Jonas entered the slave room, and he was feeling a bit down on himself. He had tried not to think about Yuki, but she would somehow get brought up, or his brain would associate random things with her. It made him feel melancholic, and sometimes at night, he would stay up later than usual, in the hopes that she would send for him, and they could talk. Unfortunately for Jonas, he hadn't seen her in over seven months.

“Swamp Beer and Rat Stew,” Jonas sighed, “I wonder how they taste?"

“Probably like Simon’s ass,” said Johnson. He was laying in his cage on top of a thick blanket. He looked much cleaner than usual, and his head full of fluffy brown hair was propped up against a soft pillow. He looked rather casual, but there was a glimmer of excitement and anticipation in his eyes.

“I would have compared the taste to your sister’s snatch,” said Simon, and he propped himself up on a pillow, “Musty, salty, and smelly. However, tasty enough to go back for round two," Simon looked equally clean as Johnson. Their hair was no longer matted and oily, and their skin was no longer coated with blood and grime.

“Jesus Christ,” Jonas groaned as he climbed into his cage, “I don’t want to hear about his sister’s nasty vag, you’ll ruin my appetite.”

“Oh, fuck you both,” Johnson rolled his eyes, “So, how was the fight?”

“I won, obviously,” said Jonas, “Michael Davis was so-so," he stretched out and rested his hands behind his head.

“You lying fuck-face,” Johnson nearly slapped him, “We're talking about a guy who beat Ahmed, there's no way he was just so-so.”

“Fair,” Jonas admitted, “He was pretty much good at everything, but thankfully my stamina was better.”

“So, you went with the plan?” Simon asked, "Wear him down, and then knock him out?”

“Sort of. He had me on the ground for a bit, and he tried getting me in a headlock."

"How'd you get out?" Simon looked surprised.

"He couldn’t finish the lock because my hand was in the way, and he couldn’t flip me on my stomach.”

“Good shit,” said Johnson, “What happened next?” Jonas considered what to say next. He hated lying to his friends, but he didn't exactly know how to explain what had happened to Michael Davis' arm.

“I broke out of the headlock, and then I knee’d his fucking face off.”

“Flying knee?” Simon smiled, “That's a staple of every good Jonas fight.”

“Are they still calling you the Comeback Kid?” Johnson smirked.

“At least I have a nickname,” said Jonas, “They just scream out, 'Johnson!' every time you take the stage. You’d think it was a gang-bang instead of a cage match.”

“Simon Rhule doesn’t sound very cool either,” said Simon, “So I can’t blame you.”

“That may be true,” said Jonas, “But that head kick you gave your opponent was very cool.”

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Over the last seven months, Jonas wasn’t the only one who had made great changes. The two slaves that had always accompanied Jonas had also begun to take after their friend. Simon was no longer that skinny thirty-something-year-old who had arms like a skeleton, he was shredded.

Under the tutelage of three good Sinners, Simon had managed to become a fighter and was sitting pretty with a record of two wins, and one loss. Looking at the back of his hands, Jonas could just barely see the faint outline of two red clouds. Simon was a Monk, and his Sin was Sloth.

Johnson, on the other hand, was much bulkier than Simon, and he had begun to look the part of a Berserker, and on the back of his hands were flame-shaped Sin Scars. Both he and Simon were nearly identical when it came to talent for Sin, and martial arts, so he too had become a fighter and had a record of two wins and two losses.

“Simon, did you ever think there would ever come a time when the three of us would be fighters,” said Johnson, “And also still living in cages, eating shitty rat food, and still shitting in a bucket?”

“Well,” said Simon, “You can blame Jonas for that. He still thinks it's a bad idea for us to move into the fighter's barracks. Plus, I like the privacy and safety of the slave room. You know it isn't safe to leave because of how many fighters Wolf had been trying to recruit. He knows a fight is on the horizon, and when he hears that Jonas won against a former top-five fighter, it won't be long until he makes his move."

“Yeah, I know,” said Johnson, “I’d rather not have my throat slit while I slept, but still.”

“Brow got you both blankets, pillows, beer, and extra rations,” Jonas reminded, “You even get frequent showers. That's all the advantages I got when I first became a fighter. I don't think you should be complaining right now."

“And we’re eternally grateful, Master,” said Johnson, “But I can’t help but wonder how nice those private bedrooms must be.”

“Don’t get your hopes up,” said Simon, “We might've been able to awaken our Cardinal Sins because of Jonas’ teachings, but there's no way we can escape our level of talent. This is the best it’s going to get for us.”

“You realize that you’re currently strong enough to put yourself at the pinnacle of strength back on Earth?” Jonas looked at them both, "When you guys are on the surface of the Overworld, nobody will be able to screw with you. Now stop your belly aching, and get ready for the dance."

“I still think we should pick a better word than dance,” said Johnson, “It just sounds weird,” the word dance had become code for the escape plan that they had been plotting and preparing for.

“Anyway,” said Simon, he always felt so uncomfortable and nervous when discussing the escape plan out loud, “Right now we need to focus on the fact that Wolf has a dozen fighters under his command, and if we don’t do something now, it’s only going to get worse.”

“I know,” said Jonas, “I think Wolf is scared, to be honest. He knows I’m gunning for him, and it’s only a matter of time before I try to take what’s his.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised if Thomas enlisted the help of Yotama Yuki to try and take you out,” Johnson instantly knew he screwed up because any mention of her would usually make Jonas’ face turn cold and dampen his mood.

“Nah,” said Jonas, “Me and Yuki might no longer be friends, but I’m sure that she would never try to kill me,” considering he got away easily, Johnson decided to change the subject.

“We kill the alpha, and the rest of the pack will fall apart, isn’t that right?”

“That’s the plan,” said Johnson, “Both Ralph and Pete have been doing their best to recruit fighters to our side, but no one wants to decide until they can be sure of who's going to win."

“I still find it weird that Pete joined our side,” Jonas shook his head, “I remember way back when he tried to kill me.”

“Yeah, and you nearly took his head off,” Simon reminded, “Let bygones be bygones.”

“Oh, you don’t have to tell me,” Jonas laughed, “I’m the one who approved it, but that was mostly because Ralph had begged me.”

“Can’t blame him though, can you,” said Johnson, “Pete had his ass handed to him by that new wolf, and he completely lost his position in their little pack.”

“He got the Ralph treatment,” Jonas agreed, “Found himself bleeding half-to-death on the floor, completely abandoned by those he called friends.”

“I can't judge him too much, though,” Johnson reminded them, “This is Hell.”

"He's a decent guy, I think that his biggest problem was Wolf. Whatever, Ralph vouched for him, and I trust big Ralph," Jonas sounded confident in the decision.

"Very true," Johnson had also become good friends with the giant of their group, "Still, six of us isn't nearly good enough to compete with all of them. We need a few more, hopefully."

“Chow time,” a gang banger interrupted, and all the slaves in the room watched greedily as three large trays were brought out and slid into the cages of Jonas, Simon, and Johnson. Of course, it was just a dozen bowls of rat stew, half a dozen loaves of crusty bread, and a keg worth of swamp beer. From the guard's pocket, he pulled a small bottle of clear, ice-cold vodka. It looked like a feast fit for three kings.

“I'm fucking starving,” said Jonas as he soaked a piece of crusty bread in the murky soup, it wasn't possible to eat it until it was soft.

“What do you prefer,” began Simon, “And be honest. Do you prefer rat stew or grilled rat?"

“Stew,” Jonas spoke as if the answer was obvious, “At least right now, I can’t tell if I’m eating the rat’s head or his ass.”

Later that night, just as Jonas had begun to drift off, he found himself sitting in a crimson armchair. Pride had once again summoned him to the room of shadow and blood. He sat across from Jonas, and his blue eyes were piercing and mysterious.

"Congratulations, you performed another act of Sin Sorcery without meaning to do so."

"Pride," Jonas found himself staring out at his surroundings. The small bloody creek had turned into a large crimson lake, and no matter where Jonas looked, there were waves of blood. "What do you mean, I performed Sin Sorcery?"

"Without meaning to do so, your opponent's arm was drenched in your blood, and you made your blood burn him like acid because you were so desperate to escape. Everything was so messy and chaotic that you didn't notice, but I did."

"I did that?" Jonas felt shocked, and he was trying to stretch his memories to go back as far as they would. He recalled Michael's scream, but he couldn't remember anything about the arm. "I don't recall doing it."

"You've activated your Original Sin many times since you found your Cardinal Sin and unlocked your Sin Scars, mostly for healing. However, you've now used your Original Sin for Sin Sorcery twice. The first is when you broke the padlock on your cage, the day you tried to save Ralph. The second time was today when you burned your opponent. You're progressing nicely. In a few months from now, you should be able to consciously activate your Original Sin."

"Thank you," Jonas knew that using True Sin, otherwise known as Sin Sorcery, was extremely difficult, and one couldn't call themselves a true Sinner until they could actively do so. It wasn't something a person could teach, it was something a Sinner had to learn about themselves, and not from someone else.

"One day," Pride looked around the room, "This place will disappear."

"What do you mean?" Jonas thought he was being odd, and there was a melancholic tone to his voice.

"This place is a construct of your psyche, built because of your twisted memories, and the repression of your powers. When you're ready to leave this place, I will reveal certain memories to you, and you'll have full access to everything. When that time comes, this room and everything in it will no longer exist."

"That's not a big deal, right?" Jonas chuckled, "This is all make-believe, to begin with. I'm man enough to accept my fate, and I want to see what you've been hiding from me. Whether this room exists, you and I will still escape this place, find Old Louie, and eventually, take the Sin Assessment. Nothing will change, I promise," and Jonas flashed a brilliant smile.

"You're right," Pride blinked, "It's not a big deal. Anyway, continue the good work. Soon, we'll kill Wolf, and after that, we will make our escape."

"Okay, see you soon?" Jonas could feel that Pride was about to dismiss him.

"Very soon."