Of course, Joe felt pain. The sharp, searing agony of a fist slamming into his jaw, the heavy ache in his ribs, it was all crystal clear. His senses weren't dulled, and this wasn't some convenient, secret superhuman power he'd suddenly unlocked after taking the Vow.
But something had been broken, something fundamental had shifted inside him during the endless, grinding ordeal required to earn that Vow. And what had been broken was fear.
He had spent weeks, countless days and grinding, exhausting hours, facing Aron, a relentless, methodical killer, who was constantly trying to take his life. The sheer, overwhelming pain of being hit by Aron, the sheer terror of facing his unpredictable arsenal of brutal weapons, had become Joe's normal.
Now, standing in this Pit, facing a fast, angry boxer named Razor, Joe realized it. Not a single hook, jab, or uppercut thrown at him was capable of generating true fear. He wasn't saying the punches were weak; he was saying they were manageable.
