The previous day had gone by quickly, and Jonas found himself standing with Brow, waiting for the announcer to introduce him.

“Fucking main event,” Jonas looked heavily toward the large doors in front of him, and even though the lobby was closed off from the arena, he could still hear the muffled noises from the excited crowd. John, the doorman, was speaking into his earpiece, and Jonas could see the stress wrinkled on the brow of his sweaty face.

“Don’t forget,” said Brow. “These main event fights are where the gang makes its real money. Gang leadership will be watching your fight, so don’t fucking lose, and don’t turn it into a snooze fest.”

“I want a refrigerator,” said Jonas. “Stocked with beer.”

“Maybe," Brow clicked his tongue impatiently.

“Wait, seriously?” Jonas had been prepared for Brow to yell at him for making such a huge request.

“Don’t look so shocked,” Brow rolled his eyes. “You’re a top-five now, and it means you get to enjoy the finer luxuries of Hell—only if you win.”

“Ladies and Gentlemen!” The announcer yelled into his microphone. “The main event is about to begin!”

“Here we go,” said Jonas, while there was excitement in his voice. “I love this part.”

“Fighting out of the Hurts gang, and standing in at six feet tall while weighing in at two hundred pounds, and with a professional record of fourteen wins and zero losses,” the announcer paused for dramatic effect. “The Comeback Kid, Jonas Ariel!”

Jonas pushed the lobby doors open, and a shockwave of sound hit him. As he strode toward the arena, he felt a surge of Pride because of the thousands cheering for him.

He tore off his prison shirt with one hand, and the crowd went wild as his perfect torso was exposed. He tossed the shirt to a screaming girl, who snatched it from midair and gave threatening glares to anyone that got too close. Jonas was the hot topic of Little Wrath City, and every single citizen had heard his name. It wasn't every day a handsome youth went undefeated in the ring, and it was unheard of to be a top-five fighter in one of the most powerful gangs.

Suddenly, Jonas broke into a sprint, and just as it looked like he might crash into the cage wall: he leaped into the air, kicked off of the wall, did a backflip, and landed spectacularly on his feet. The crowd roared with excitement, and it pleased Brow to watch his fighter excite the crowd.

The referee opened the cage door and let Jonas into the arena, who then side-stepped across the ring and flexed for the crowd. He playfully gestured for them to make more noise, which they did.

“And his opponent!” the announcer shouted. “Fighting out of the Black Saints gang, standing at six-foot-one, while weighing two-hundred and ten pounds, and with a professional record of twenty wins, five losses—Rodney, ‘Killshot,' White!” Jonas watched as the crowd roared for a dark-skinned fighter, who wore a handsome face, had dark eyes, and tight cornrows.

Rodney and his owner entered the arena from the opposite side. Jonas could tell that his opponent didn’t seem nervous because he oozed confidence while smiling and waving at the crowd.

The two fighters made eye contact, and Jonas could feel lightning crackle between their gazes. Rodney stepped into the ring, and Jonas glanced at the back of his dark hands, where two flame-like tattoos glowed brightly. The two fighters each took a corner while the announcer and referee took center stage.

“The fight won’t end until one opponent taps by submission or is knocked unconscious. “There are no judges, only carnage,” his voice turned to a shot. “LET’S GET READY TO RUMBLE!”

“Are you ready?” The referee asked, and Jonas nodded. “Are you ready?” he asked, and Rodney nodded. He chopped his hand down. “Fight!”

The two fighters put their fists up and approached each other without any reservations, and the crowd went ballistic as they witnessed the beginning of an intense brawl. Jonas blocked a left hook and immediately countered with a straight jab, while Rodney weaved his head and returned fire with a vicious uppercut that hit Jonas in the ribs. Just as the crowd thought Rodney had got one over on his opponent: Jonas threw himself forward and mercilessly headbutted Rodney on the nose. The Berserker took a step back from the impact while his blood dripped onto the arena floor.

Rodney felt his nose and realized how crooked his handsome face had become. He felt burning rage overtake his mind, and Jonas couldn’t help but wonder if his opponent had let himself get hit on purpose to channel Sin.

Jonas felt his muscles swell as he came under an onslaught of well-coordinated and perfectly timed attacks, and if he hadn't known better, Jonas wouldn't have expected them from a rage-fueled fighter. However, he knew that a good Berserker was capable of becoming induced with rage while also maintaining their skill and fighting prowess.

Rodney had improved his Sin from bleeding; Jonas knew his opponent would want to make him bleed too. This strategy would be a perfect two-step assault to take control of the fight. Jonas knew what Rodney was trying to do, and he felt Pride in his chest because he refused to let someone else use his blood against him.

He skillfully avoided the attacks meant for his face, but at the cost of leaving his body exposed, Jonas felt multiple ribs crack under the crushing force of Rodney’s fists. It took everything in his power not to cough up blood once his diaphragm had ruptured, but thankfully, his core was like steel, and it tanked a lot of the damage. Jonas had done tens of thousands of crunches, and his organs were safe because of his hard work.

No one would beat him or make him bleed. Jonas' arrogant thoughts caused his Sin Scars to glow with Pride, and his evasive maneuvers became quicker and more precise.

A Crusader and a Berserker each had one well-known weakness, and both fighters tried to exploit the weaknesses to their advantage. Jonas focused on assuring his opponent never did enough damage to satisfy his blood craze, and Rodney was trying to make Jonas feel arrogant and overconfident.

Both fighters knew that if they failed to accomplish their goal, the fight would slowly slip out of their hands. Unfortunately for Jonas, Rodney aimed a perfectly timed kick to the face that seemed much faster than his previous attacks. The attack blasted Jonas across the cage, and he quickly found his balance before his opponent could continue the assault. However, Rodney hadn't attacked in his moment of shock. Jonas lifted his hand to feel his nose and felt wetness coat his fingers.

'Damn,' he instinctively looked at the blood on his fingers but was shocked to see nothing but a translucent, water-like substance—his blood had become colorless. It was Jonas' Original Sin: he had willed his blood to change. This turn of events shocked Rodney into a momentary stupor. Not wanting to let his stroke of luck go to waste, Jonas charged toward Rodey.

Jonas began a vicious assault that forced his opponent onto the defensive and made the crowd wild. He landed a few good hits on Rodney's face and broke a rib or two with a well-timed uppercut. Finally, Jonas spun on the spot and kicked Rodney across the ring. The Berserker crashed against the cage's wall, and his eyes widened with rage. After a few seconds to collect himself, Rodney charged back at Jonas.

The fight began to peak as the two fighters unleashed each of their attack arsenals, and Jonas tried everything he learned to bring his opponent down. However, in his heart, he knew that it wasn’t flying kicks or spinning back fists that would win the fight: it was a battle of mentality and a contest of who could maximize the potential of their Sin.

Jonas was breathing heavily, and his battered body was hot and numb. Colorless blood dripped from his skull and onto his shoulders until it splattered on the floor. It looked like thick sweat leaking from pink holes in his face—it was not a scene that might trigger a Berserker.

Rodney looked a bit better, but that's because most of his injuries were internal. ‘Go for the submission,’ Jonas readied himself. ‘I’m waiting for it.”

It was as if Rodney could read his mind, and Jonas was surprised that his opponent seemed disinterested in a ground-and-pound victory because he continued to brawl instead. Rodney threw calculated punches and sometimes a sneaky kick. Jonas knew he couldn't keep playing his opponent's game forever, and although his confidence was high, his mood was starting to sour as he wondered how to turn the fight in his favor.

Jonas' tactic of facing Berserkers wasn't working very well, forcing him to develop a new strategy. Furthermore, Rodney White knew his flaws, and he wasn't going to put himself in a position to fulfill Jonas' wish.

The battle descended nearer to its conclusion, and Jonas could feel the momentum slowly sliding from his grasp. It didn’t matter how much he hit Rodney or how often he dodged his attacks; he couldn’t shake the Berserker’s unrelenting rage and bloodlust, and it was taking all of his willpower just to maintain his Pride. The blood leaking from Jonas' wounds was starting to regain color, and they weren't healing. Jonas knew he was losing his confidence. He tried to summon his Original Sin, but no matter how much he willed his blood to do something: nothing happened.

In that brief moment when his mind had trailed, Jonas lost focus on the fight, including where he was standing, and as he put up his arms to block a kick, he felt his back hit the cage wall. Jonas had made his first major mistake of the fight. Rodney exploded with vigor and began unleashing bone-crushing attacks on every unblocked inch of Jonas' flesh. A few moments later, Jonas' blood was gushing crimson, and his body looked no closer to healing than a corpse.

The crowd went wild as they watched Rodney swarm his opponent like a shark that smelled blood, and the many fans of Jonas grimaced as they watched their favorite fighter beaten with his back against the wall.

When he tried to block his face, a punch would hit his stomach, and when he tried to guard his stomach, an attack would hit his face. Finally, for the first time during the battle, Jonas felt completely unconfident in winning the fight. His connection with his Sin was fading, and the pain worsened because his powers were receding inside.

Jonas wondered if he was about to face his first loss—the thought was depressing. He had enjoyed being undefeated and felt frustrated that an evil man like Garth could remain undefeated.

Jonas had been punched so many times in the skull that his ears were bleeding, and everything sounded hollow. Also, his eyes swelled, and he saw stars and bright lights every time Rodney punched his head.

“Come back!”

Jonas thought the referee had said something to him, but he realized it was a very shallow chant from the crowd.

“Comeback!” the voices shouted, and for a moment, Jonas couldn’t believe his bleeding ears because he was sure they weren’t working. “Comeback-Kid!” The chant grew louder. “Comeback-Kid!”

‘Comeback-Kid?’ Jonas had nearly forgotten the nickname given to him without his consent, and at first, he disliked it because it implied he was weaker than his opponent, but at that moment, he liked how it sounded.

Jonas' back was against the wall, hopelessness filled the moment, and victory seemed impossible. However, the crowd wasn’t counting him out, and they chanted for him. They demanded that he pull himself together and grant them victory. They didn’t care how many bones he broke; they didn’t care how much blood he spilled, how much pain Jonas felt, or how badly Rodney had outwitted him. No, they wanted victory and demanded that Jonas obtain it at all costs.

Jonas felt his daring return, and a crazy idea possessed him. ‘Fucking hit me. I promise you won’t knock me out,’ he did something so wild that even Rodney felt shocked—Jonas dropped his guard and gave a bloody grin that was missing teeth.

Rodney didn’t question it, he smelt blood and attacked, and Jonas winced as his face was blasted back and forth by his opponent's swinging fists.

Jonas spat blood on his opponent, then Rodney swung his fists and mercilessly beat every inch of Jonas' face. However, Jonas wasn't going down because Sin filled his body. Not only did it keep Jonas on his feet, but it made the pain fade away and gave him an indescribable feeling: he knew deep in his heart that nothing Rodney did would ever knock him out.

“Comeback-Kid!” Rodney was frustrated that the crowd's chanting grew louder, and he was even more baffled that his opponent was still standing. With all the Wrath he could muster, Rodney pulled his fist back and hit Jonas in the mouth. He was sure that his opponent's brain must have rattled from the impact; however, he watched Jonas crack a half-broken smile, and then he finally began losing control of his Sin. Wrath was leaving Rodney's body, replaced with exasperation and frustration.

Jonas smelt the chance of victory, and he put his hands behind himself, grabbed the holes of the cage, and kicked his body upwards. With a blur, his foot cracked against Rodney’s chin and sent him flying backward.

The crowd went wild as Jonas finally managed to get himself off the wall, and even though he looked half dead, there was a flaming vigor that seemed to be blazing from his beaten and bloody body.

“Come on!” Jonas yelled and charged toward his opponent. Rodney’s attacks became sloppy as he tried his hardest to land a knockout hit, but he soon realized that nothing he did would work. If Rodney wanted victory, it was time to try something different. ‘Do it,’ thought Jonas, and then his opponent played right into his hand. Suddenly, Rodney ducked and dived for Jonas’ legs, but he felt instant regret as he watched a bloody knee fire like a cannon toward his face. It completely dislocated his jaw and caused his eyes to roll into the back of his head.

Rodney’s head hit the floor, and a foul mixture of blood and drool began to leak from his mouth. The crowd went wild while the referee jumped forward to call the match. It was over; Jonas had won.