“So this is what it’s like when a wild animal stupidly falls for a trap,” Brow sounded very obnoxious, enough to make Ahmed’s face turn a nasty shade of purple, “We humans stand around jerking ourselves off at our ingenuity, and we wonder how something could ever fall for such a stupid trap, but now I see. Some animals, no matter how big or great they seem, are just meant to be food for another animal’s growth,” and it was like Brow had just ordered a hail of arrows, as his words penetrated every fiber of Ahmed’s body.

The worst part about everything was not the fact that Ahmed had lost the bet, nor the fact that he was being made fun of, the worst part was he felt that everything Brow had said was completely and utterly true. Not only was he untalented, but he knew in his heart that his entire thousand years of growth had occurred just so he could be a stepping stone for another.

“That’s not true,” Jonas’ voice was low, “Not at all,” Brow turned his head, clearly shocked by his attitude.

“What did you say?”

“People don’t exist as stepping stones for others,” said Jonas, “A fight can go one of a million ways, and I could have lost that bet just as easily as Ahmed could’ve won it. Saying he lost for my growth is arrogant. In the likely scenario where I lost the bet, would you say that it was for Ahmed’s growth?”

“Why so defensive, slave?” Brow licked his lips as he thought of something to say, “This is good news for you, why ruin it by sticking up for a no-good loser?” Jonas shrugged his shoulders.

“It just pisses me off to hear you disregard the opponent I just put everything I had into winning against, that’s all,” Brow looked like he wanted to explode in anger, but he wasn’t that stupid and he decided to try and improve their relationship.

“I see,” Brow said dully as he couldn’t think of anything nicer or more agreeable, “Anyways, Jonas won the bet, so Ahmed will bring him a beer every day. Jonas, why don’t you go back to your cage for a well-deserved rest?”

“Alright,” Jonas didn’t argue, “Simon is coming too,” and for a moment it looked like Brow was going to disagree, but he decided that it wasn’t that big of a deal. Simon looked like part of him wanted to cry, his moment to finally eat was just on the horizon, “Good fight,” Jonas said to Ahmed before turning to march out of the sparring room, “I’ll come for my first beer tomorrow.”

“Got it,” said Ahmed, and he left in the opposite direction back to his private quarters. Jonas and Simon followed Brow out of the arena and back into the prison room, where they were ushered into their cages. For a moment, Brow stared at Jonas with his eagle eyes, contemplating him dearly.

“I’m still not sure that you are worth spending the resources on,” Brow eventually said, but Jonas was sure that was just an exaggeration, “However, because I’m impressed with what you managed to accomplish in just a short period of time, I’m willing to humor you, why should I make you my fighter?” Jonas felt like breaking out of his cage and beating Brow to death with a wooden spork. Was this an interview? Didn’t he just show why he deserved to be a fighter?

“You saw what I could do?” Jonas said indignantly, “I survived a near-death beating from Garth, and managed to toss Ahmed out of the fight pit within a week,” he asked rhetorically, “I went up against two of the best fighters in this place and came out alive, can you imagine what I’ll be able to do with a few months of proper training, and diet?” With this statement, even Brow couldn’t find a point to argue.

“You’re still a dummy slave,” Brow said slowly, but Jonas knew this was him agreeing, “You’ll sleep in your cage, you’ll still fight Ahmed every day, and you’ll still definitely belong to the Hurts gang,” and Jonas could tell that there was a ‘but’ about to show up, “But,” added Brow, “I’m willing to increase your food supply, and give you some time in the gym.”

“I don’t get a private room?” Jonas looked extremely disappointed with the initial offer.

“A fucking private room?” Brow could slap him, “There are only ten private rooms, and seven of them are currently occupied by either the gang leadership or the top-five fighters. If you want one, you have to be one of the two,” Jonas was disappointed but in the end, he only mentioned the private room to set the bar so high, that what he truly wanted didn’t seem like that much when compared.

“Wait, then where do all the other fighters sleep?” he added, “They don’t have private rooms and yet they also don’t sleep here in this slave room?”

“There are two quarters, and each has a cafeteria, barracks, shared bathroom, and a gym. One is for the fighters, one is for the gang members. Other than that, the most important people have their private rooms, as I said,” and Brow rolled his eyes.

“When you say a barracks, do you mean like a bunch of bunk beds in a big room?”

“That’s exactly what it is. Were you in the military or something?”

“No,” Jonas shook his head, “I stayed at a few boys' homes that were exactly like that, a bunch of bunk beds, no privacy, and a single shared washroom.”

“Trust me. I once had a private room and if it wasn’t for that sneaky bitch Yuki I would still be there. Now I’m stuck sleeping next to morons and showering with low-ranking jackasses,” Jonas could see from the throbbing vein in his forehead that Brow still held a great vendetta against Yotama Yuki and her owner, Thomas Vale.

“Well, I’ll make sure you get your private room back,” Jonas added slyly, “I can’t do that without the proper food though, so I’ll probably need about six large meals per day and a keg of beer.”

“A fucking keg of beer?” Brow unconsciously gripped his iron rod, “Are you a slave or a king?”

“Beer has so many empty calories,” said Jonas, “And it will improve my morale, helping me train better.”

“Fuck off, slave,” said Brow, “You’ll get three square meals a day and one mug of beer from Ahmed.”

“That’s barely more than what I’m getting now,” argued Jonas who was not walking away from the conversation without some more benefits, “I want six large meals per day and a pitcher of beer,”

“Four regular-sized meals, and no fucking pitcher of beer,” spat Brow.

“Then I hope you don’t mind eating next to low-level gang bangers for the rest of eternity, cause this little old slave isn’t helping you do anything,” and both Brow and Simon nearly shit themselves in disbelief.

“You mother fucker!” Brow pulled his iron rod from its sheath and stuck his arm through the bars of Jonas’ cage, swinging it around wildly like he was trying to beat any inch of Jonas he could reach.

“Don’t damage the merchandise,” Jonas said calmly, “Unless you have another prospect you can back?” From Brow’s expression, he was able to discern that there was no other prospect that had caught his eye, “Calm down for a second!” He was growing tired of holding himself against the back of his cage trying to avoid the violent swinging iron rod. Brow exhaled a murderous breath and he pulled his arm back slowly through the iron bars and began glaring at Jonas like he was his most hated enemy.

“Four large meals per day and a pitcher of beer is not that much when you consider all the benefits you’ll reap once I’m a top-five fighter,” Jonas said soothingly, “Think of it as an investment; one that you can take back at any time if you should feel like I’m no longer worth it,” and for a moment, Brow considered his honeyed words.

“Four large meals,” said Brow, “And a pitcher of Swamp Ale,” he added, “It’s my final fucking offer, and don’t you dare try to up it,” and he pointed the iron rod threateningly towards Jonas who held his hands up innocently.

“Fine,” he made a face like he had conceded a lot, “Four large meals, and one pitcher of Swamp Beer.”

Jonas was in a very jovial mood, as was his friend, Simon. Although it didn’t seem like much changed for the two slaves, their fortunes had drastically turned for the better in just the past hour. Even though they still lived in a cage, hadn’t showered in God-knows-when, were starving to death, and were constantly beaten black and blue, these two slaves had managed to do something that tens of thousands of slaves across Hell had tried to do with no success; move on up in the world.

“What do you think we’ll get to eat today?” Simon’s mouth was salivating as he could no longer hold back his desire for food.

“It won’t be rat stew,” said Jonas delightfully, “I’m guessing something filling like chili?” He wondered out loud.

“No, no,” Simon dismissed that, “Too many vegetables, too complicated to do in a sewer,” he added, “It’ll be pizza.”

“Fucking pizza?” Jonas turned his head and looked dumbfounded, “Yeah why don’t they bring us a bottle of champagne while they’re at it?” and Simon stuck up his nose.

“It’s my fantasy, I’ll eat whatever I want,” and by the time lunch had arrived, Jonas wished he had allowed Simon’s fantasy to flourish.

“Fucking grilled rat-on-a-stick!” Jonas looked disgustedly at the food he was holding. It looked like a corndog, only instead of a hotdog wrapped in a soft breading, it was a fat sewer rat, skewed from ass to mouth, skinned, and covered in salt and pepper. The guards had brought out a wooden tray topped with six very plump rat kabobs, and Jonas was regretting asking for larger portions.

“Not so bad,” said Simon who had been given half the meal, seeing as he technically was just a normal slave and only got two miserable portions of food per day. He tore into the rat with a crunch and the other slaves drooled as they watched a few droplets of oil fall from his mouth and drip onto the cold iron floor.

“Still,” said Jonas as he tore a piece off, “I was expecting at least Sloppy Joes,” and he added, “They eat better in American prisons.”

“Just ignore the fact it’s a rat and think about the nice pitcher of beer you’ll be drinking tonight, along with whatever sewer animal they’ll be serving with dinner.”

“Hopefully not crocodile meat,” Jonas joked as he began polishing off his rat, “I know it’s not what we expected, but at least it’s nice to get lunch, finally,” said Jonas, “I was going way too long between meals,” and it was true that dummy slaves only received cold porridge for breakfast, and rat stew for dinner. There was no lunch between the meals.

“Oh fuck off,” said Simon indignantly, “Much too long between meals?” he added, “I was going days without eating, let alone a few hours like you.”

“And now you reap the benefits,” said Jonas as he gestured to his own grilled rat.

“That I do,” said Simon, “That I do.”

After polishing off his lunch, Jonas decided he was going to take a pre-dinner nap. Part of the reason was that he hadn’t slept very well, the other reason was that he hoped to speak to Pride.

Thankfully, Jonas was granted his wish, and it wasn’t long after he drifted off to sleep that he found himself standing in a sea of blood, surrounded by infinite darkness and basking in the glow of a crimson star.

“Congratulations,” Pride’s voice carried across the room, and he manifested himself in front of Jonas.

“Thank you,” Jonas felt like his connection with Pride had grown stronger over the past week, and if there had been any doubt in his mind of the Sin Shadow’s intentions, those doubts had since been erased.

“You managed to fulfill your bet against Ahmed, you used Sin in a meaningful way, you defied those odds, do you know what that makes you?” Pride poked Jonas in the chest, “That makes you a Sinner. You used Sin and your willpower to accomplish a goal, and not just any goal, but a goal that seemed far-fetched and out of reach. This is the mark of a good Sinner.”

“When you say that I used my Sin in a meaningful way,” Jonas sat down in the blood and realized there was more than usual as his entire legs could be completely submerged when sitting on his ass.

“You infused your desire to beat Ahmed with your Pride. You were able to completely absorb multiple punches to the face without being knocked out or knocked aside. Do you understand how you accomplished this?”

“I mean, I practiced it,” and Jonas subconsciously pushed his hair back and out of his face, drenching himself with blood in the process. Pride smiled, as Jonas didn’t realize how monstrous he looked.

“Exactly. When it comes to the sin of Pride, practice makes perfect. Crusaders can perform something over and over again until not only do they perfect the task, but they can do it instinctively. At that moment, that’s when they’ll find it easiest to use their Sin. You practiced absorbing Ahmed’s attacks, you practiced embracing pain, and now you can do it instinctively, you don’t have to even try, do you understand how this works?” Jonas thought back to the moment just before he had grappled Ahmed when he had absorbed a punch to the chin that surely should have knocked him unconscious.

“I think I see what you’re trying to tell me. Because I had done it so many times before, I was confident I could do it again, I was so confident that I didn’t even need to consciously think about doing it, I just did it.”

“That’s the essence of Pride. Don’t overthink anything you do, just follow your instincts, and do what you’re confident in doing. If you’re not confident in it yet, practice until you are.”

“That’s it?” Jonas scrunched his eyebrows, “That’s all Sinning is?”

No,” Pride chuckled, “Right now you’re laying the foundation for your future. I’m just teaching you how to connect with your Sin. Once you’ve learned to connect with it, naturally, instinctively, you’ll be able to start doing much more than just strengthen your body, or prevent yourself from being knocked unconscious.”

“I understand, at least a bit better than before,” Jonas was starting to see why Pride hadn’t just given him all the answers at once. It seemed that learning about Sin needed to come not only in baby steps but also had a huge element of self-discovery.

“Have you had enough time to think about everything that I showed you, the memories?”

“I did,” Jonas sighed, “I believe you,” truthfully, he didn’t want to. However, he didn’t have much of a choice when the answers were right under his nose.

“I’m glad you’re starting to trust your Pride. I won’t ever do anything to harm you, or mislead you unless I think it’s for your own good. I still don’t know who we are, or what the man of light is planning, but I do know that the answers we seek will come to us naturally.”

“How can you be so sure?” He felt like everything he had seen was such a big mystery, and if Pride couldn’t scour memories, Jonas wouldn’t have the slightest clue about his true past, the cloaked person from Hell, or the man of light.

“The man of light wants us to learn Sin, and my instincts tell me that not only does he want us to learn Sin, but he also wants us to take the Sin Assessment, and eventually embark on the Hell Challenge. Again, I have no proof, but why else would he send us Old Louie?” Jonas went silent as he contemplated those words.

“You’re right, again,” Jonas agreed, “He wants us to take the Hell Challenge. You don’t think it has anything to do with Drake, do you?”

“That part confuses me too. I don’t know if I mentioned this already, but Drake also had a seal on him, a seal that broke early. It allowed him to access some of his Sin powers while still on Earth, but unfortunately for him, the amount of power he could access was minimal at best.”

“Wait, do you think the Man of Light closed Drake's seal too?”

"I don't think so, which makes things more confusing. Why would he allow Drake to remain normal, but mess with your seal and your memories?" Pride stared at Jonas, and he seemed to be pondering the answers to their deepest shared secrets.

"You must have an idea?"

“I have none,” said Pride.

“Don't lie to me,” Jonas' instincts told him Pride was skirting the truth.

“I'm not lying, but I do have some speculation. The man of light didn’t want you and Drake to be together, in fact, I don’t think he had any business with Drake at all, just you. It seems he cares about you in particular.”

“Fucking with my memories, sealing my powers, forging my identity, letting me be killed: that doesn’t sound like someone who cares about me.”

“When he checked your seal, you could see it in his body language, you’re someone important to him. I always trust my instincts, and they’re telling me that he doesn’t mean you any harm. Listen, we can go back and forth on this all day, but the fact is we don’t know any more than we did the last time we talked. Once we get out of the Hurts gang, we’ll find that rat Old Louie and make him tell us who the man of light is, how does that sound?”

“Sounds like a plan,” Jonas nodded, “He’ll have answers for us, whether he knows it or not.”

“Now, back to the task at hand,” Pride sat up from the sea blood and let it drip off his black body, “You need to focus on growing stronger and improving your connection with your Sin. Try infusing Pride with different aspects of your body, and your fights. This will be the next step to your training,” but Jonas wasn’t given a chance to reply, as the next thing he knew he was laying in his metal cage, back in the slave room.