Frei yelled. 

He couldn't see anything, nor could he hear anything, everything was black. The only thing he could perceive then, was his own desperation for survival.

Then his hands moved. Lunging forcefully towards the boy. His hands felt a pole-like object in its grasp. 

Then the pressure in his eyes increased twofold, blood started to bleed out from both his eyes, causing a stream of blood flowing down his cheeks and down to his chin. It was painful, but Frei felt the rage slowly surged within him, hiding the pain. In a fit of rage and as a desperate attempt for the pain to stop, Frei grasped the pole-like object tighter and harder.

Then the throbbing pressure from his eyes slowly subsided, he snapped open his crimson, bloodied eyes in a fit of rage, to look at the boy who was hurting him.

First, he saw the red tinted world, engulfed by the blood coming out of his eyes. Second, he saw his own veins popped, wounded, bloodied hands reaching forward. Third, he saw the boy's mouth wide open, trying to breathe and both of Frei's hands grasping the boy's throat tightly

"s…s..top" The boy said struggling, gasping heavily for air and his hands clawing Frei's two hands.

Frei, in no mood to listen, forcefully pushed the boy and released his hands, allowing the boy to breathe, for a moment the boy was relieved only then to be pummeled onto the ground.

*Thawk*

The sound made from Frei's fists hitting the boy down onto the ground was audibly clear even amongst the cheering.

*Thud*

The resounding impact from the boy's head banging the ground repeatedly as he tries to get up only to be punched back down by Frei, echoed throughout the cage and to the audience.

*Thawk*

Frei showed no signs of stopping.

*Thud*

The boy takes one last look at the crowd beside him, the slaves in the orderly line, while he is being hit in the face, his head banging the ground. His brain jolted intensely inside his skull and no longer can he hear any sounds except for the constant thwack from Frei.

*Thawk*

*p…ple..ase…s…t…top" the boy uttered softly, as tears dripped down alongside the blood coming out of his head down to the ground, forming a small puddle. "I…I.don..t…w..want…to die." he cried.

*Thud*

The cheering quieted down, as though the sight of two young boys forced to fight one another to death was too hard to watch. Even for the sadists watching.

During that short moment, the only sound that can be heard was the constant resounding impact of Frei's fist hitting the boy. And the popping sounds of the campfire next to them.

*Thawk*

Then before landing another punch, Frei heard a distant yelling, yelling for him to stop. It was "Gloria".

Frei came to, he looked at the concerned face she gave him. Then he looked down at the ground, the small puddles of blood and his bloodied fists. Afterwards, he saw the deformed face of the boy who was crying and shaking, who wasn't breathing anymore. As well as the tears on his face, streaming down to the ground and his eyes half open. Frei stared in disbelief, not knowing what he had done.

Who did this? He thought, he asked.

Only then a moment later, does he realize what he just did.

"D..did…I just kill him?" Frei uttered softly, as he grabbed the blood formed in puddles and stared at it.

The old man looked at Frei, amused and joyful, calmly said "Now kill him." Pausing for a short moment before saying "Please."

When Frei heard the demands from the old man, then what little there was in his life flashed in his eyes. 

"But I…I…don't want to." Frei pleaded.

"Alright, then." the old man responded, slightly ticked off by Frei refusal. Then the two of his fingers lit up, forming a knife shaped mana around his middle and index finger, slightly pulling Frei towards him. "Why don't you leave this to me?" he said, showing a cold smile. He didn't want to kill him as he sees a potential inside of Frei, whether an entertainer or fighter.

"I…I don't want him to die." Frei said reluctantly, while staring directly into the old man's eyes.

"This won't do, will it? This won't please the viewers." the old man said coldly.

Frei looked at the dense energy formed around the old man's fingers, knowing what he will do if he doesn't cooperate, he picked up the dulled knife beside of him, holding it right above the boy's heart, and as the adrenaline began to surged into him, he mentally prepared to stabbed the boy. He closed his eyes tightly, sweats began forming on his entire body, his heartbeats got clearer and clearer. He started to shake, only having barely enough strength to hold the knife, and the sweats formed inside his palms made Frei think that the knife would just slip right out.

He tightened his grip. He doesn't have the will to do it. He worried what others will think of him, what she will think of him. And as he readies to stab the boy, something resonates deep within him. It was something that Johnny said. About going to Hell.

"Hell is where people who commit bad crimes go. Like killing." 

Frei didn't even know where or what Hell is, hell he never even heard of the word before meeting Johnny. But for some reason, Frei doesn't want to go there. 

He dropped the knife. Right next to the boy with the old man's shadow towering right above the two of them. The energy from him turned into malice.