The Damned Path: Chronicles of Damien

The cage door slammed shut behind me with a loud clang, the sound echoing through the underground tunnel like a prison cell locking.

The crowd roared, sensing blood.

Across from me stood a man built like a brick wall—covered in tattoos, fists wrapped in torn cloth, and a look in his eyes that said he enjoyed breaking bones for fun.

I rolled my neck, feeling it crack. It had been a long time since I stepped into a fight like this. A long time since I let my fists do the talking.

Evelyn stood outside the cage, arms crossed, watching me with an expression I couldn't quite read. Amusement? Curiosity? Or maybe she was already calculating how long I'd last.

The bell rang.

The man charged like a bull, fists swinging.

I sidestepped, fast, letting his momentum carry him into the fence. The crowd booed—they wanted a show. They wanted blood.

"Fight me, coward!" the man growled, turning on me fast, swinging a heavy right hook.

This time, I didn't move. I blocked, my arm shaking from the force of the hit, but I stood my ground.

"You want a fight?" I muttered, smirking. "Fine."

I lashed out with a quick jab to his face, following it up with a punch to his ribs. He grunted but didn't go down.

Instead, he came back harder, slamming his shoulder into me and driving me into the steel mesh. Pain exploded in my side, but I didn't let it show.

I twisted, bringing my elbow up into his jaw. I felt it connect, heard the crack of bone.

He stumbled back, wiping blood from his lip.

Now he was angry.

"You're dead," he snarled.

"Get in line," I shot back, circling him.

We traded blows, fast and brutal. His fists were like hammers, but I was quicker, weaving and landing sharp punches to his gut and face.

Still, I could feel the bruises forming, my muscles burning from each hit.

One punch caught me hard in the stomach, knocking the wind out of me. I doubled over for a split second—just long enough for him to grab me and slam me into the ground.

The crowd roared.

But as he raised his fist to end it, I saw my chance.

I rolled, grabbing his arm and twisting it, hearing him yell in pain. I used the leverage to pull myself up, and then I drove my fist into his face—once, twice, three times—until he dropped to the floor, unconscious.

Silence fell over the arena for a moment.

Then, the crowd erupted in cheers and shouts.

I stood over him, breathing hard, blood dripping from a cut above my brow.

Evelyn stepped forward, nodding slightly. There was respect in her eyes now.

"Maybe you're not all talk," she said.

I wiped the blood from my face, giving her a grim smile. "Told you I could dance."

She smirked. "Alright, Damien. You've earned a conversation. Meet me upstairs. But know this—if you're serious about taking down Kross, there's no turning back. Once we start, it's war."

"I'm already at war," I said quietly.

She studied me a moment longer, then turned and walked away, motioning for me to follow.

As I stepped out of the cage, the weight of what I was about to do settled over me.

Taking down Kross wouldn't just be a fight. It would be a bloody, ruthless war.

But I was ready.

Because when you've got nothing left to lose,You become the devil they fear.