Oscar rubbed the places he was hit to alleviate the pain. The euphoria he felt from eating did a lot to mask the pain. Although it was a pasty mush, it still satisfied his stomach.

He noticed John, who was fuming on his way to him. Oscar stood up and stared up at the behemoth's eyes. He had kicked the hornet's nest.

"I only ate my portion of the rations." Oscar said plainly.

"There is a price to pay for your actions. You dared to attack me." John said menacingly as he cracked his knuckles.

John's towering figure made Oscar feel a slight bit of fear. He had been in a battle to the death before, but he was still not used to precarious situations like this.

Oscar focused his mind and eyes on observing John's movements. From what he gathered, the chains that bound their feet only allowed them to run in short strides; they made wide kicks impossible.

The only possible ones were the short kicks, like when John kicked Oscar on the stomach. That was only possible since Oscar was on the floor, so there should be no openings for it here.

This left the best attack in this prison to be the arms and hands. Headbutting and body-slamming was still doable, but the arms were good for maintaining distance. John's arms were massive in width and length, well-matched with the rest of his goliath body.

Oscar internally cursed the Warden for giving him this task. He thought of the different ways to attack, but the height and reach difference were too much of a gap.

It was nigh impossible to do this in his current condition, along with the chains dragging him down.

'I can't come up with anything. There's only one thing I can do.'

Boris, Serge, and Gritz became speechless at Oscar. That young boy was either suicidal or arrogant; he stomped his feet and chose to confront John from the front.

It took them a long time to gather the strength to at least inconvenience the giant to be able to get their rations and hurt him. This made John think twice about antagonizing them since if he got hurt, the others might take the opportunity to attack.

The cells always reached a balance where everyone was hostile, but none were willing to commit to a battle. This was why newcomers were the best prey for their first few months here.

If Oscar had remained quiet and built his strength, he would have been able to secure his share of rations and get a seat to live comfortably. It was a shame that he was too cocky.

However, none of them knew that Oscar didn't have months; he only had a week, and he had to defeat John as soon as possible to enter Draven's tutelage.

John gnashed his teeth, making a strong abrasive grinding noise. This newcomer did not put him in his eyes at all. First was the surprise attack, and now this unyielding stance as though he could win.

Oscar sweated heavily down his back, but he avoided showing any nervousness.

Finally, John was only a few feet in front of him.

In a fast attack, John swiped his heavy arms to Oscar's side. The blow landed with a thunderous boom, blowing the dust off the floors into a dust cloud.

To John's surprise, Oscar was not blown to the wall. He remained firm, with his two hands intersecting like a cross. John noticed sparks from where his attack met Oscar's defense.

"Tricky punk."

"I noticed you mainly used the metal of your handcuffs to attack like a weapon. I imitated that for my defense."

Oscar employed the cross defense to layer the metal cuffs on his hands to meet John's blow, lessening the damage to his hands and body.

However, slight trickles of blood were flowing down from his wrists under the metal cuffs.

Although his hands were safe from being crushed or broken, the weight of John's blows still made Oscar's metal cuffs scrape on his skin, tearing it slightly.

John unleashed another wide swing from the other side without wasting a beat. Oscar blocked it once again with his metal cross defense.

This defense was so effective because of John's simple attacks. The handcuffs were also linked together like the feet, making it impossible to punch from both sides. John could only bring both arms together in one direction.

Thus, it was an easy task to predict and defend where John would strike.

John's agitation was apparent as each of his blows was blocked. They started to be more wild and sloppy.

Oscar did not fare better. The skin under his handcuffs was viciously torn and his hands were numbed from the strength of John's blows. Continuing to defend in this manner would only harm him more.

At least John was too pissed off to notice these details. Oscar hoped for an opening to come soon.

Then, John's next move was what he was counting on.

Frustrated, John lifted his hands above his head and gripped them tight like a human hammer. He opted to bring this farce to an end with a powerful blow from above.

"Try to defend this, you arrogant scum!" Even if Oscar was able to block his attack, there was no way his legs would be able to hold it together. Either they'd collapse from the weight or break entirely.

"Now!"

Oscar put his strength into his feet and bolted with all he had to get closer. With few and fast steps, Oscar was right near the behemoth's chest.

His bleeding hands were swung at John; their target was the middle of his chest. The metal handcuffs slammed straight into John, making the giant gasp as the air escaped his lungs.

"GUH!" John grunted.

Oscar read about the weak points of a human in a book. It described the solar plexus as a clump of sensitive nerves. Hitting it would hurt anyone; no matter how muscular or big the person was, their solar plexus was still a weak point.

However, much to Oscar's despair, there were always things that a book could never describe, such as a person's recovery from an attack on their solar plexus.

Oscar did not have a single moment to take advantage of his attack. John's towering figure staggered for a split second before his fists came crashing down on Oscar.

The crushing blow missed due to Oscar's quick and desperate dodge. John snarled, landing a deadly attack on Oscar's side. It flung Oscar off to the empty seat; the boy landed with a devastating crack.

'Shit. I miscalculated.'

In the throes of pain, Oscar could only blame himself for this mistake. He underestimated John's quick recovery time. If Oscar had only a moment longer, he would have continued landing blows on the solar plexus.

Instead, he was the one who was immobile and coughing up blood. What an idiot. At least he did not break any of his bones. Oscar chuckled out a small laugh.

On the floor, his eyes caught John's feet, and he looked up at the goliath. John's eyes were full of chilliness, but his red face erupted with hot rage.

"Did you think something like that would work? Your scrawny arms can't do anything. If you just stayed quiet and minded your own business, you would not be in so much pain."

True, Oscar wished for nothing more than to stay idle and wait for his week. He could survive a week without food if he needed to. He needed to be stronger, and the Warden's training was what he needed.

'I was too optimistic.'

Oscar was slammed onto the cell walls as John lifted him by the neck. But he did not show any fear; this resulted from his mistake. The least he can do is grit his teeth and endure.

John threw him to the cell doors and swung ferociously at Oscar, using his feet at some moments since Oscar was on the floor.

The helpless Oscar only huddled like a ball, keeping up a guard with his arms and legs. He made sure to stick his defenseless back away from John.

The beatings continued for an hour as John's anger was not yet abated. Finally, the other three prisoners stopped John, saying Oscar might die if he took it too far. Murder was forbidden here, and even John tremored from the punishment.

Before he turned back, John spat on Oscar. Oscar clenched his hands so hard from the humiliation that his nails cut into his skin.

The other cells looked on pitifully, sneering, laughing, and indifferently at Oscar's blood-covered body. There were vast amounts of bruises and abrasive cuts. Oscar felt some of his bones were fractured.

He did not get back up or move. He continued to lay on the floor. The cool feeling of the stone soothed some of the pain.

'John, I swear I'll defeat you.' Something was burning in him. His eyes were fierce, and his breathing rough. There were only thoughts of revenge.

But revenge seemed so far away. For now, Oscar had to focus on recovery.

The prison was completely silent except for the screams of the tortured prisoners. Oscar recovered enough to move his body but had to make small movements due to his fractures.

A rapid bell started to ring like rattling teeth. The prisoners stood up from their seats and waited. Oscar shakingly stood up under the jeers of John.

"Guess you'll miss lunch today. Although you won't get any even if you were back on time."

Oscar ignored John's taunts and waited for the cell doors to open. The prison guard unlocked the cell and told everyone to line up.

The prisoners of the Abyss Prison went to the pits twice a day, once in the morning and in the afternoon. Oscar did not experience the morning shift because he arrived at the prison right after it had ended yesterday.

John went to the forefront, bumping into Oscar, who felt a shock of pain. His fractured shoulder was agitated from John's shove.

With a smirk, John went on, but Oscar followed behind him with a hateful expression.

Their group went to the entrance to the Ataer Pits, where the guards distributed their pickaxes. Oscar looked down at his pickaxe and the stairs. In his current condition, far worse than yesterday's, there was no chance he would be able to get back up.

He glared at John, who had his pickaxe on his shoulder, going down the stairs without care.

Oscar had a flash of inspiration. He looked at his pickaxe, then at John, and back at the pickaxe; his eyes held a dangerous glint. The pickaxe suddenly felt so powerful in his hands.

With the little strength he had, Oscar leaped down the stairs and stabbed his pickaxe into John's back.

"HUUK!" John felt something stab into him and lost his footing. Oscar smiled maliciously as he stomped on the back of John's head. Using John as a makeshift ride, Oscar went down to the next level.

John did not know what had happened to him as he blacked out. The other prisoners, including Oscar's cellmates, did not know how to react. They looked on with blank expressions as no one was so daring to pull this off in the pits.

Oscar pulled out the pickaxe, staring down at John's unconscious body. The thoughts of revenge against this criminal, who had tortured and stolen from him, cascaded all over his mind.

He held the pickaxe, preparing to strike. But his hands stopped. No matter how much Oscar was tormented by the thoughts of killing John, his hands would not move.

'Kill him.'

'Don't hesitate. Kill him!'

'He's just a lowly prisoner.'

The vengeful thoughts crept in. Oscar let out a roar and cast the pickaxe aside. Back then, with Greg, he had no choice. But here in prison, there was no need for pointless murder.

As vicious as John was, he never tried to kill Oscar. He merely beat him to a pulp. Even though the rules stopped him, John still followed them.

Oscar looked at his trembling hands. He did not want to be a monster worse than John. He closed his eyes and breathed out all the anger that had built up in him.