I want to say I put up a valiant fight and took down half of their group before one of them got me with a cheap shot and knocked me down before the rest of them rushed over with their unfair number advantage. But I didn’t, not really. My body was still battered and sore from last night and I could only knock one out cold with a well placed elbow before I got swarmed and stomped into oblivion. As I lay on the ground, recovering from my beating, I look up at the sky and laugh uproariously before wincing in pain. I can taste blood in my mouth but I can’t help but smile at my own failure.

I went through all of that, fighting for my life against the scarred man, dancing with his corpse under the moonlight, and making myself out to be a deranged lunatic, only to have it all fall apart because I couldn’t win one fight. Pathetic. I thought about using the knife in my pocket but I quickly realized if I escalated things any further, I wouldn’t have gotten off with just a beating. Regardless, it looks like everyone got their food and water from the box and left while I was on the ground. Seeing the wooden box ascending back into the sky fills me with desolation, especially since I didn’t couldn’t get any food or water. Fuck.

I really thought I could’ve put up a good enough fight that they’d back away after I knocked out the first guy and give me some breathing room to work on the rest of them. But I underestimated them like a dumbass and I wasn’t expecting them to learn from their mistakes from the last time we fought so quickly. After their buddy went down, the rest of them instantly threw themselves at me and held me down without even giving me a chance to retaliate. I could have taken down one or two more if I was in good condition but even if I was in top form, there’s no way I can take them all down by myself. I’m only one man after all.

Sighing, I’m about to get up and head over to search the scarred man’s cave thoroughly for any food when I see someone enter my vision as I’m staring up at the sky. It’s the older man from before with the lame leg. There’s a small grin on his face and he says with a gruff voice, “You got your ass kicked pretty good, huh?”

I don’t feel angry at his words at all. There’s still a smile on my lips as I lament over how weak I am. I replied with a chuckle, “Yup, took down one of them but that’s it. Can’t do much by myself and they grabbed onto me before I could really do anything. Pathetic, right?”

“I’m surprised you even got one of them. But I noticed you were using your elbows from the very start. You got perfectly good hands and feet, right? Why didn’t you use them?”

“That’s just how I was taught to fight. I learned how to fight inside an inn that hosted barehanded fights that the patrons could make bets on and all I was told to do was aim for the chin and to use my elbows and knees whenever I could. I know how to throw a pretty good punch though. I just didn’t think to use it back there because I wanted to take out one of them as fast as I could.”

“Well, there’s your problem. Elbows and knees are fine if you’re fighting someone one-on-one but they’re risky when you’re fighting more than one guy. You’re discarding half of your reach advantage for a quick knockout but as you saw, one knockout doesn’t mean shit when you have another dozen guys coming for you.”

Hmm, that’s an interesting perspective. It makes sense though. “You sound like you’ve been in tons of fights.”

His grin grows wider and he says with a laugh, “You bet your ass I have. I’ve been down here for over two decades and I’ve been through everything.”

Raising my eyebrow at him, I ask, “You’ve been down here for 20 years?”

His grin slightly fades as he answers back, “Probably longer than that. I stopped counting a while ago because it only brought down my mood being reminded of exactly how much of my life has been wasted down here.”

“Why didn’t you try climbing out of here? I thought everyone could try to get out of here and join The Fold once they got out.”

The smile on his face completely disappears and instead of responding, he only looks up at the sky in silence. Once he has had enough of whatever he’s thinking about, a small grin revives on his face and he starts walking away with a chuckle, muttering under his breath, “Why didn’t I try?” That was probably the wrong thing to bring up with him. Seeing him walk away from me with his limping stride, I can guess why.

As I’m staring at his back, rustling noises coming from beside me draw my eyes away from him. The little girl from before is carefully placing half of a loaf of black bread wrapped in a dirty rag on the ground beside me. Surprised by the gesture, I thank her genuinely. She only stares at me with a blank look for a moment without saying anything before scurrying off after the man with the limp.

Hearing my stomach growling like a starving dog, I reached out for the bread and tried to take a big, ravenous bite before regretting it. It’s as hard as a rock and my teeth nearly shatter from it. It’s been a long, long time since I’ve had black bread. The last time I had it must have been when I was still on Augustine’s farm. Even The Sleeping Hornet served stale brown bread instead of this rock-hard garbage. But I guess I should learn to appreciate what I do have.

Slowly nibbling away at the tasteless abomination, I dry my whole mouth out trying to moisten it as much as I can and after spending 15 minutes laboring over a single piece of bread, I manage to get the whole thing in my stomach. That was a battle of a meal and if this is all we get down here, I can see why everyone looks so underfed. Getting up, I head back to my cave because I can’t think of what else I can do. There’s nothing down here except dirt and rocks. Actually, I could use some of that dirt. I fill both of my pockets to the brim with dirt, careful to make sure I can still quickly grab ahold of my knife at a moment’s notice, before heading back into my cave.

For the rest of the morning and the afternoon, I laid down on the pile of rags to rest and recover my body as much as I could. I’ve been pushing myself way too hard these past few days and it was only losing that fight in such a wretched fashion that I realized how broken my body truly is. I still have two serious arrow wounds and even though they’ve been treated, they’ll affect my fighting capability for a while. Not to mention the fever I barely got over yesterday.

But I did keep an ear out for any sounds from outside to see when food and water was delivered. It wasn’t until night fell that the second food delivery came down from up above accompanied by the same shrill whistle that I heard earlier in the morning. It was the exact same as what happened earlier as everyone gathered in the center and waited with anticipation and fear. A few of them were holding torches for better visibility and when the wooden box touched the ground, I found where they were getting them from.

This time, instead of just a sack of bread and a barrel of water, there was also a small pile of dirty rags meant for clothing as well as a small bundle of unlit torches. None of this really makes sense to me. Why go through all this effort just to potentially recruit a few starving wanderers? They’ve already kidnapped all of us, they can just force us into their fold without needing to go through all this. Do they really expect us to find some sort of enlightenment or cleansing down here? Or are they really just simply lunatics, justifying their insanity by creating this whole trial of theirs?

The scarred man’s words, whose name is Corbin I guess, from last night resonate with my thoughts. He was here for years, perhaps not as long as the man with the limp, and even he called the people up above lunatics. Maybe I can ask the limping man later what this is all about since he’s been here for decades and has a better chance of knowing something than everyone else here. Besides, he’s one of the only people down here willing to talk with me.

This time, the group from before steps ahead of everyone else and looks all around as if daring everyone here to challenge their authority. No one takes them up on their offer, not even me. I’ll get them back someday and I suppose I can take a page out of Corbin’s book and learn to bide my time. After they take their fill of water, they also greedily grab a third of the bread and all the rags and torches before walking back to their caves in one, cohesive unit. Are they afraid of being ambushed afterwards?

The second to take their turn is the man with the limp and the little girl. It’s surprising because neither of them look all that tough but no one gathered here attempts to stop them. I’m honestly just standing back to observe as much as I can as I learn more about the factions here and whatever bizarre customs have naturally spawned over time in The Pit. The man and the girl drink from the barrel and only take two loaves of bread each before walking away. Seeing them quenching their thirst only reminds me of how I haven’t had any water the whole day.

With nearly 40 people still standing around anxiously, I walk up to the box after the man and the girl leave because I don’t want to go hungry for the night. But my turn is contested by a pair of scrawny looking men. Seeing me come forward, they get in front of me and block me from getting any closer. The taller of the pair looks at me with a scowl on his face and barks, “Didn’t ya get your ass beat good enough this mornin’? Do my brother and I need to teach you a lesson as well? We’re third in line and if you have problems with that, I wouldn’t mind knocking some sense into that soft skull of yours.”

The shorter brother only humphs in agreement and starts cracking his knuckles menacingly while staring straight into my eyes without blinking, his scowling lips oozing with disdain. Ah, I see. That ass kicking I got this morning knocked me down a few notches in The Pit’s hierarchy it seems. My dance with Corbin last night might have shot me straight to the top of the totem pole down here but me losing the fight against his surviving minions has ruined that reputation I’ve built. I’m no longer the madman who dances with corpses and should be feared by all. I’m now the madman who dances with corpses who also got beat up.

Well, that needs to be fixed, doesn’t it? Seeing me remain silent, the taller of the two brothers loses his patience and snaps, “Well!? What are you waitin’ for? Get your tiny ass back in line. Or do you want to tussle with the two of us?”

Grinning at him, I answer back, “Gladly.”