Chapter 6: Visit to the Ancient One. I am the special one. I am the bruised one.
Disclaimer: I do not own the rights for any of the preexisting characters. This novel is made merely for entertainment purposes.
A/N: I wanted to post this yesterday, but it took me a while to nail my narrative for this chapter, so sorry for that. Having said that, brace yourself, this will be a long and emotional chapter. And we. Yes. WE are reading it all.
August 2nd, 2012. Monday afternoon 17:47 (05:47 p.m.) – 177A Bleecker Street, Greenwich Village, New York City.
As school ended at 3 p.m., in a satisfactory manner if Damian had to judge, he said goodbye to everybody except MJ, who asked him to take her home, much to Gwen's annoyance. Which of course, he agreed to.
But somehow the 'give me a ride home' turned into 'let's stop for a quick bite' and Damian ended up in a mini date with Mary Jane, which was mostly them eating a pizza slice with a side of fries at a local diner restaurant before moving to a cafe where they caught up on the time lost, talking about life with the occasional flirty banter of usual.
Overall, a nice change of pace for the now usual group hangouts, as while both MJ and Damian knew how to be outward social butterflies, they both preferred a more cozy and quiet atmosphere where they can have proper private talks.
Once their little two and a half hour date came to an end, Damian left MJ at her house with a promise for repeating this type of outing again. Then, he drove directly towards 177A Bleecker Street in Greenwich.
As the sun started to hide behind Manhattan's skyline, giving the world a warm and pretty amber tint. Damian turned and took his keys out of the key slot of his car, killing the engine after parking it adjacent to his destination.
He ran his finger through his hair, smelling the faint mixed scent of vanilla milkshake and woman's perfume on the sweater's sleeve, courtesy of MJ's clumsy hands.
Taking one last breath,he locked in before it was time to give out his application for becoming a mage. A long time wish of Damian across lifetimes.
Trying to not sound nervous, Eva asked Damian for the upteenth time. [Are we sure this is the best course of action?]
And for the upteenth time, Damian answered. 'Eva, like I've said before. We need to do this if we want to have a minimum of safety when we warp across dimensions for the first time. You know this already.'
Letting out a breath of nervousness, she defended her posture with the same arguments she used the first time he talked about coming to this place. [I know, but this is so damn risky. What if he's not the patient old master he's supposed to be?]
Doing his best to transmit a feeling of calmness through their link as well as through his voice, Damian patiently explained. "If Yao was a corrupted evil man, this version of Earth would be absolutely fucked anyways. At least we should learn this so we can hop to a different timeline if things go south. And all that aside, we have prepared as many countermeasures as possible in the short time we've been here. We cannot be passive and pray that the avengers will stop Loki exactly like in the movies. It is do or die… Well, more like do or teleport the fuck away as soon as things take a turn for the worse."
Chuckling involuntarily at Damian's capability to joke around in front of such a monumental 'what if' scenario, Eva managed to calm down. It also was useful to think in all their prepared countermeasures to flee. Because they have done so to the best of their abilities.
Damian never stopped training for a single day with his powers, not only did he become better at everything he has tried to do, from becoming immune to the spatial distortion of the Flying Raijin, becoming able to teleport from one end of New York to the other multiple times comfortably with almost no cooldown.
Creating upgraded, semi-permanent soul linked marks throughout all of New York, which could be felt even through barriers meant to isolate himself from the world–granted, the barriers were created by him, but there's not much he can do about that.
Becoming able to create basic energy constructs like barriers and blunt weapons. Improving his copies of telekinesis, electrokinesis and telepathy to what he guessed was borderline alpha level. Although the abilities weren't quite there yet.
Enhance himself physically and mentally in a temporary manner, acting just like a buff to his 'stats'.
Also finding a way to enhance himself permanently. Although at a much slower rate than the temporal version. It also currently took too long to see meaningful results with his current self created method. He also has become more proficient with controlling the elements, even if still being at a basic level.
Having said that, he was already stretching himself thin with his training, he even learned to replicate the blockade of adenosine coffee gives, with much trial and error. Relying on pseudo-esoterical means rather than understanding the chemical reaction on his brain, much to his chagrin.
Even then, every few days he still needs to have a 10-12 hour sleep sesh to be well rested again. But there were too many aspects to train and too little time before a mining truck's worth of shit hits an industrial fan, figuratively, for the next couple years.
So Damian has focused on three aspects of his reality warping powers for the majority of his training and left the remaining time to practicing other stuff, approaching these three aspects and the rest of his powers in a 70-30 split of his training regime.
For starters, he trained how to control his 'space' by perfecting his Flying Raijin and his marks. Secondly, he dedicated himself to controlling his 'time'. As he had no good means of surviving any heavy hitters, he concentrated on evasion as his main defensive ability.
Surprisingly, or maybe not so surprisingly for those familiar with human studies on 'time', working on time inevitably took Damian back to working on 'space', or 'space-time' to be more specific.
And with the help of a lot of reading to understand the concept of time, at least to understand how humans understand time, Damian devised two applications of his power in this aspect.
The first, and best, most complicated and costly application comes in the form of a time-dilation bubble. Following a multiple step implementation and dividing the work in half with Eva, Damian managed to create a prototype ability where everything in a malleable radius of him had its time 'slowed down'.
To explain it as simple as he can, this ability when picked apart functioned as such:
Anchoring time:As Damian understood; All relativistic calculations need a 'proper time'. So he asks Eva to use his heart‑rate as the bubble's zero‑point frame. With this reference, Eva holds a thin sheath of energy above Damian's skin that acts as a metronome. A makeshift atomic clock of sorts.
Sculpt a graded gravity shell:According to the theory of General Relativity: stronger gravity equals slower time (In the shortened version of the Schwarzschild metric, it gives: Δt′ = Δt·√(1‑2GM/rc²). Damian folds energy into a toroidal stress‑energy tensor (basically a donut shaped ring that tells space-time how to behave) that mimics the mass‑energy of a small black hole (she can do this since energy and mass might as well be the same in functionality for time dilation, at least for big man Einstein). This mass-energy is then spread evenly over a hollow 2 m sphere so nothing is crushed. The shell's effective mass is tuned just high enough to achieve a 20‑fold time‑slow for anything outside the radius.
Maintain interior flatness:Following Newton's shell theorem: Inside a hollow shell the net gravitational field is zero. So Eva constantly cancels any leakage so the interior metric stays Minkowskian (Meaning the time inside this space moves at the same rate as the normal time of the universe); Making Damian's nerves, electronics and metabolism remain unaltered.
Energy budget and failsafes:Following the principle that the stronger the dilation, the higher the effective mass. Eva controls the duration (more or less 5 seconds at 50x slow) to use more or less 25% of Damian's total daily reserve (costly, but doable), then lets the shell evaporate smoothly to avoid recoil shockwaves.
Photon lag & edge shimmer:Gravitational red‑shift stretches wavelengths leaving a potential 'gravity well' (In simpler terms: Light has color, this color holds energy, and the red end is the side of the spectrum with the least amount of energy. Light also has the form of a wave. Gravity can pull on that wave depending on its 'strength(mass)'. As gravity pulls on the wave known as light, light loses energy (since it can't lose speed) and becomes redder. This makes it look like Damian has a red sphere around him where the insides look deformed (looking at it from the outside), like a mirage (due to light refraction).
This convoluted 5 step process (technically 4 as the photon lag was more of a result than a step) created a time-dilation bubble around Damian that could slow time in an area in exchange for a costly amount of energy. Which would be great if it didn't have so many problems for the current him.
For one, this was costly, as it was designed to give Damian time to react to attacks he couldn't normally even follow, he needed a lot of energy, as it currently costed him 25% of his total reserves to slow time by a 50x factor for 5 mere seconds, enough to dodge one attack, but not to fight for extended periods of time.
Then it was the problem of the clock Eva used to perceive time outside the bubble, his heart beat. During fights, stressful situations or adrenaline filled situations, his heart rate was bound to change rhythm, so Eva couldn't blindly follow this rhythm to calibrate the bubble. They were currently working on a solution of using a module that controlled the rest of Damian's functions like his neuron firing rate and other stuff, but the progress was painfully slow.
Once you bypass those problems, you have to deal with maintaining the structure of the sculpted, graded gravity shell while moving, while maintaining the even distribution of the energy-mass so they wouldn't be crushed by their own creation to death. Something they currently couldn't do at all.
And to top it all off, if you bothered to (read) successfully follow the instructions along, you might have noticed that the time slow is said to happen outside the radius. Yes. You didn't read it wrong.
THE FUCKING THING WORKS BACKWARDS! Inside the 2 metres time moves normally yet in a 10 metre zone outside this radius time moves 'x times' slower. The damn opposite of what they were trying to accomplish. Which wouldn't be as bad if the effect didn't have diminishing returns inside this 10 metre zone, meaning the further you were the less affected you are by the time-slow.
And a-fucking-gain, this wouldn't be as bad if the cost for making the outside zone increment in size didn't cost a fuck ton equivalent worth of energy to expand. And now to actually finish the rant, there was the problem of the activation time, it took a bit over 2 seconds to activate this time-dilation bubble, 2 seconds that were enough for them to die 10 times over against the enemies the bubble was designed to defend against.
Suffice to say, this ability currently wasn't in any shape to be used effectively, it is more of a desperate last attempt to buy time than a proper technique, as things stand. So while they correct all the flaws and make it be able to work in reverse too, it was nothing more than a novel experiment-turned-last-ditch-option.
However, it wasn't all bad. Thanks to this experiment, they found another application of spacetime manipulation that could be much more useful for combat scenarios.
Time Acceleration.
Well, the name sounded fancy, but it was basically a glorified 'fast-forward mode' where Damian and Eva reversed special relativity to accelerate all of his biochemical reactions, neural firing, muscle contractions, etc. Making it all occur ten times faster. The downside of this as you might've guessed, is that he also ages 10 times faster. Making this a costly, but acceptable payment if only used for a couple seconds to react and teleport away faster.
There was a version of time acceleration without this huge cost, but that shit was so complicated and headache-inducing to the current Damian that he had to become a quantum physicist just so he could apply it, so that was impossible for the time being.
Still, not all was that bad. The 3rd main aspect Damian has never stopped practicing, that has given him much more satisfactory results was his 'meta-data fishing' as he temporarily dubbed it.
Simply put, it was his ability to 'fish' a copy of any existing entity in the omniverse that was recorded in the fabric of existence (Which normally everyone is by default, or so he theorizes/hopes) to later absorb. While he hadn't absorbed anyone after finishing with Nightwing's assimilation some days ago. He had never stopped looking for targets to assimilate in the last month, spending a fer hours every night fishing for data sets to be absorbed.
Looking at his inner world, you could see sleek transparent capsules with these data sets of different characters, abilities, aspects or traits. Said capsules were also the result of his nonstop research to better use his power.
After much tweaking around, Damian and Eva managed to create constructs in the form of human sized capsules that could channel the creation energy, as Eva called it–though he still insisted D-juice was a better name, but that was neither here nor there–through a direct link each capsule had with the nexus portal in Damian's metaphysical mind space.
Through this direct link mechanism, he now had this nexus to the creation energy open at an estimated 5% aperture 24/7. Estimated in relation to his current capabilities of absorbing the energy–because, you know, in theory this portal could contain true infinite energy.
But instead of absorbing the energy directly, he siphoned most of it to the capsules, and these capsules converted this energy into a mirror energy of these energy bundles (Damian calls them data sets as a personal preference), nurturing them to become of a higher quality. Of course, he personally trimmed each bundle of the traits he didn't need or want before they could enter a nurturing capsule, as Damian called them.
Sadly, this was far from being perfect too. He couldn't do more than a 5% opening of the nexus portal since there was a limit to how much energy the capsules, and the energy bundles themselves could handle at once. And then there was the fact that his body currently couldn't handle any more stress than a constant 5% flow anyways.
For reference, before he created the capsules 2 weeks ago, the nexus was opened at less than 1% aperture capacity, this was as much as he could handle after finishing the absorption of Nigthwing's physique to use as a permanent enhancer of his mind and body.
As of right now, Damian had at his disposal primed data sets divided in three groups:
A) Data sets that might be useful for escaping, like the stand 'Dirty Deed's Done Cheap' or D4C, and yesterday's newly acquired Instant Transmission from DBZ. Although these were mainly back ups should his main ability fail, especially D4C. B) Data sets to enhance his magical affinity: Like Harry Potter, Rudeus 'Diddy' Greyrat, Megumin, etc.C) Data sets to enhance his brain's computational abilities: Mr. Terrific, Tony Stark, Shikamaru, etc. While it did take a lot of energy to extract these, as he was focusing on their human intellect and nothing else, it was still within his current limits.
He has also tried 'fishing' for the concept of 'soul strength/power' and 'soul purity/quality' as this was directly related to your affinity for the mystical arts, but for some reason he hasn't had much luck at searching for these abstract concepts. If there were hidden requisites, Damian was none the wiser.
Now then, if someone were to hear this, they might wonder why hasn't Damian tried to start assimilating any of these things yet? It couldn't hurt to be overqualified after all, they might say.
The short answer was that he could, but he didn't.
You see, it has been a painstakingly arduous process to gather the few data sets he has gathered until now. Therefore, he wanted to leave these data sets in the nurturing capsules for as long as humanly possible before he's forced to assimilate them. As he has no assurance he could enhance these powers once they were absorbed since Nightwing had no powers to experiment on.
That aside, the main reason Damian did not want to absorb anything while visiting the sanctum for the first time was his paranoia, the respect he felt towards the foretold gaze of the Ancient One.
Damian was not sure at all about hiding his status as a mutant, much less the real time transformation he goes through as he absorbs a new data set. If things went south like Eva was afraid of, it was much better for the Ancient One to think Damian was a mutant with an energy related power–which he technically was–so he would lower his guard, giving him time to teleport away.
In summary, if the Ancient One was the honored and wise protector of mankind, it wouldn't be necessary to absorb any powers to escape. If he was the Crooked One instead, it was preferable for Damian to show as little inconsistencies and energy fluctuations as he could in the eyes of the old man, so he would hopefully lower his guard.
Damian hoped it was the first case, as he was quite fond of his home reality and wasn't ready to abandon it, nor abandon the few people he had started to consider his own.
Finishing his hopefully paranoid preparation recount ramblings, which took merely a couple seconds in real time. Damian got out of his car, in his hands, a small, carefully packed wooden box.
Inside were his offerings: a bundle of Silver Needle white tea leaves, rare and prized in the high mountains of Fujian for their purity and calming properties–a variety he read was once used in monastic rituals for clarity of thought.
And beside it, neatly rolled and wrapped in soft linen, sheets of virgin parchment, its smooth, cream-white surface untouched and dense, made from carefully treated lambskin. Damian had ordered these bad boys on the internet and they had arrived last friday.
Shaking off any lingering doubts, he walked to what looked to be an unassuming old town house. Right then, much to his delight, as soon as he stood in front of the door he could instinctually feel something amiss with the place, as though there was more than what meets the eye.
'Feels like a cloak of sorts' He said to Eva. 'Imperfect, as if it was an incomplete puzzle asking to be resolved'.
[Probably on purpose. To attract those who are 'fated', or maybe they already know we would come.] Said Eva, with a guarded tone, prepared to react to anything unusual.
'Maybe both, hopefully for good reasons.'
Stepping through the short stairway at the entrance, each step weighted down on Damian, expectations, paranoia and hope colliding inside him.
He stood before the door of the sanctum. Taking a deep breath, he raised his hand to knock on the door. 'Here goes nothing.'
Yet, before he could even touch the wooden door, he suddenly felt a shift in the air. He didn't know how to put it into words, but something changed, he could feel a pulse of energy–a type of energy he has never come in contact with before, at least not this directly.
Resisting the urge to go 100% sync mode with Eva or teleport away, he composed himself and knocked on the old door. Three knocks, evenly paced, in a calm rhythm.
The silence stretched for a second too long for Damian, before the door opened on its own with a creaking sound. The air inside was thick. Warmer than outside, rich with the scent of old incense, copper, parchment, and something ancient that tugged at the corners of memory like a dream nearly forgotten.
Damian stepped in.
[Whoa.] 'Whoa in-fucking-deed.' Eva's reaction mirrored his own awe as the inside revealed itself to be impossibly vast. Gravity twisted subtly here. Stairs clung to walls. Lanterns floated in place, flames flickering inside glyph-etched globes. The architecture was somehow fluid, hanging there just enough to keep the mind unsteady.
"You're late." said a calm voice.
Zeroing on the source of the voice, Damian turned to look at the man standing atop the descending staircase.
A monk, dressed in a dark crimson tunic with gold stitches in strange patterns, probably filled with energy if he had to guess. Layered robes on top of a strong body, compact but not bulky. A thick waist sash, armguards and wrist wrappings to create the full 'battle monk' vibes.
The man sported a calm expression but sharp eyes, coupled with his buzzcut, the clean shaven face and his tanned skin, he looked like how you would imagine a warrior monk to look like.
'How the fu-' As Damian's eyes widened for a fraction of a second, he felt alarmed at not having felt the monk's presence at all before he seemingly appeared, even with Grayson's trained senses. Yet, a fraction of a second later, he went back to his neutral expression. Not wanting to look too surprised, and with an even tone he said.
"Didn't know I was expected. The invitation must've been lost in the mail."
[Damian. Not the best time for jokes.] She reprimanded in a concerned tone.
Which was immediately met with a response. 'This is necessary, Eva. I need to judge his reaction, a man's reaction to being disrespected, even if barely, can tell you about his predisposition, his arrogance.'
Descending the stairs, Wong said in a dry tone. "No need for playing games, Seeker. The Ancient One said your fears are unfounded."
He studied Damian for a beat longer than comfort allowed, then his eyes dropped to the offering box. "Tea leaves and lambskin parchment. Thoughtful. You did your reading."
'Well that isn't creepy at all.' Feeling completely on the back foot for the first time since his awakening, Damian commented.
To which Eva added. [Hey, look at the bright side, he knows we exist, and we haven't died yet. At least that should be good news.]
Chuckling internally at Eva's dark half-truth-half-joke, he looked at Wong and said. "Can't knock on Heaven's Gate empty-handed."
Wong gave the barest ghost of a smirk, then turned. "Come. He's been expecting you for quite some time."
As Damian followed him deeper into the Sanctum, Eva whispered in his mind. [Okay, I'm getting good vibes now. The creepy old wizard house has staff. That's something.]
'Don't jinx it.' Damian thought back.
The Sanctum shifted as they walked–rooms subtly rearranging, corridors lengthening or folding away in the periphery of sight. He could feel the weight of time and magic in the walls, and yet nothing felt hostile. Just… aware.
Wong led him into a meditation chamber. Modest, dimly lit, with a circular window that looked out onto nothing. Not the street. Not New York. Just infinite, swirling mist.
A low table sat at the center, with two tea cups already steaming.
"Sit," Wong said, gesturing toward the red mat. "He will join you shortly. Do not touch the window. Do not ask it questions."
"Beg your pardon?" As his calm mask cracked for a second, Damian arched a brow and doubted if he heard that right.
Still, not wanting to take any chances, he did as he was told. Kneeling on the mat and setting his offering box in the ground too.
To his surprise, Wong lingered for a second. "Try not to lie. He'll know. And if you don't know the answer to a question… say so."
"Thanks for the advice," Damian replied, showing sincere emotions for the first time since entering. "Are you always this helpful to new initiates?"
"I'm never this helpful," Wong said without blinking, and then turned and walked out.
[Ha, I like him.] Eva muttered.
Agreeing with the sentiment, Damian responded 'Yeh, me too. He seems nicer than I remembered.'
After that, he was met with silence. Damian sat for nearly a full minute, eyes closed, letting himself settle, somehow the waiting calmed him down instead of making him nervous. Yet his senses remained sharp, looking for any signs of abnormality.
The air around him vibrated faintly with what he believed to be mystical energy. This place felt alive, and older than most buildings had a right to be.
Then, he felt it.
A gentle tug in the fabric of space. Not a portal opening, not a teleportation like when he himself did it, but more like the room was accepting another presence. When he opened his eyes, he was no longer alone.
A robed figure had entered from a curved doorway that hadn't been there before. He walked with deliberate grace, his sandals whispering against the stone floor.
The Ancient One.
An old man, appearing to be in his 70's or 80's. Slender. Calm. Weathered with time, yet ageless. His robe was a muted saffron hue, bare of any decorations except for the glint of an amulet hidden beneath its folds.
His beard was long but tidy, connected to a neat goatee and reaching to his chest. His face was detailed by lines that denoted more wisdom than age. The face was sharp, high cheekbones, a long narrow nose and equally long eyebrows that seemed to be able to move when he did.
Yet, the most profound feature was the old man's eyes.
Eyes that even in their half-lidded state held a golden-brown colored stillness that Damian had never seen in another person, as though nothing the universe could show would move his eyelids.
Looking down, he could see the man's hands, which looked like they had once held weapons, books, and the cosmos in equal measure.
His eyes–sharp and timeless–settled on Damian.
"You are not what I expected," he said, settling onto the mat across from him.
"Neither are you," Damian replied, managing not to sound as nervous as he felt.
The Ancient One tilted his head, amused. "Do you fear me?"
"…No…" Taking a second to pick his words, Damian continued. "Caution would be a more fitting emotion. Respect too."
The Ancient One accepted that answer with a nod. Then, looking down at the offering box, he gestured. "May I?" Damian opened it for him without hesitation.
The Ancient One lifted the parchment briefly, fingers gliding across it, then held the tea bundle to his nose and inhaled softly.
"Silver Needle," he said with approval. "Harvested high and moonlit. A meditative tea."
"I thought you might appreciate it." Said Damian while studying the sorcerer's reaction, not that he expected to be able to see his real feelings on his face.
"I do. Your intent is honest. Your energy, however… curious." Said the man, looking at Damian.
Damian didn't flinch, but he felt Eva stir in his mind. [Ah shit, here we go.]
"You carry something within you," the Ancient One continued, eyes narrowing just slightly. "Not a demon. Not a curse. Something… symbiotic. A consciousness."
Damian froze for a second, he came expecting to not be able to hide his nature as a mutant from the Ancient One, but having the man peer so deeply into his existence with a mere glance made Damian's hair stand on end.
It dawned on him how naive he was thinking he would be able to escape if the sorcerer supreme had ill intentions.
With a tone full of caution, ready to at least try to dip should shit turn dangerous, he tried to find how to best proceed. "...That's…"
Seeing his unease, the Ancient One relaxed his gaze and said in a kind tone. "You don't have to explain it if you don't want to, I feel no ill intent from the consciousness, and you seem to be aware of its existence. It's merely this old man's curiosity."
Hearing his words, Damian paused for another second before he decided to take a leap of faith, wanting to heed Wong's advice and start on the right foot. "Her name is Eva… she is bonded with me."
The Ancient One closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them again. "She is watching me now."
As a smile crept onto his face, Damian simply said. "She always watches."
[Still here. Not going anywhere.] Eva said aloud in his mind. [Also, Hi. Love the Sanctum. Really adds to the whole 'wizard king' aesthetic.]
The Ancient One chuckled faintly. Not a reaction Damian expected—but a welcome one.
"She is alive in a way most spirits are not," the Ancient One said. "Like I said, I sense no malice in her. But great potential. And you, Damian Rossi, are… fractured. Twice-born. Wound and thread, sewn into one."
Damian's face hardened as his jaw clenched. Being read like a character from a book to his face, not being able to hide anything, it felt so foreign, so disturbing, to say the least.
It made him feel weak, infuriatingly weak. Not being able to safeguard even his deepest secret left a horrible taste in his mouth.
The Ancient One met his eyes calmly. "You have seen more than this world. And wish to see more still."
Swallowing the discomfort, he rested the palms of his hands on his thighs and bowed down, just enough to show respect but not subservience. "I want to learn," Damian said softly, baring the last of his wishes, as bare as the rest of his secrets. "Truly learn. I sincerely wish to not just survive the multiverse. But understand it. Respect it. Walk it."
The Ancient One sipped his tea. "I will not teach you for your strength," he said. "Nor for your gifts. I will teach you if you are willing to confront your own truths–and accept that not all of them will be kind."
Without any hesitation, Damian responded. "I accept that."
"I believe you do." Said the old sorcerer.
He set his tea down, then folded his hands before him. "Then this place opens to you. As it has for others."
Damian exhaled, his shoulders easing just slightly. Eva's voice returned, now lower. [Okay… this might actually work.]
'Yeah,' he answered back. 'Our little gambit paid off.'
…
The trials began soon after he was accepted, or at least he felt he was accepted. The chamber of the self was silent, save for the faint hum of sigils alive beneath the stone floor.
It was an old space, hidden deep within the Sanctum's foundation. Its walls were lined not with scrolls or relics, but mirrors that didn't reflect the body–only the soul. The chamber had no weapons. No tools. No audience…
There, Damian stood tall and composed, but there was a tension in the curve of his back. As if something inside him already knew what was coming.
He stood in a chamber that felt far below from the central Sanctum, or was it above? He honestly couldn't tell with the way the sanctum moved.
There were no candles, no artifacts, no murals. Just walls of obsidian glass that reflected nothing but soft, directionless shadows. No exits or corners. Only a single, circular platform carved into the floor.
Damian stood at its center, the Ancient One several paces behind him.
Eva was quiet again. But not absent. Just... hesitant.
The Ancient One finally spoke. "Before you prove your skill and strength, you shall prove yourself. As no matter how skilled or strong you are, it means nothing without clarity of self."
Damian nodded. "I understand."
"No, you don't," the Ancient One said, and his voice was suddenly more commanding. Not unkind, but firm like carved stone, like a teacher lecturing his student. "You have walked between lives. Hidden behind a mask of strength. Hidden even from yourself."
Damian's throat tightened.
The Ancient One stepped closer.
"There is a big part of you that has not wept. That has not grieved. That has not even felt the full weight of what has been lost. Not in your old life. Not in this one."
"…Because I couldn't afford to." Damian reflectively defended himself.
"No." the Ancient One replied. "Because you were shielded from it before you could face it."
His eyes turned slightly. Toward Damian's chest… Toward Eva.
Damian blinked, realizing where things were going. "Wait-"
"I will not harm her." the Ancient One said calmly. "But for this trial... she must be silenced. And the barrier she built… must be broken."
Damian's fingers clenched. "You can't just take her away. She's part of me."
Eva's voice rang out, speaking to both of them. Clear and firm. [...He's right. I am. But he also needs this.]
Damian stiffened at her words. "Eva-"
[I made the limiter the moment we woke up in this world. You were panicking. Dissociating. Losing control. You needed grounding. I became that for you. I dulled it. The fear, the rage, the grief. I made it livable.]
Her voice cracked just slightly, but she pushed on. [But you can't carry all this forever without feeling it. You can't be who you're meant to be while dragging a heart that's frozen shut. A heart that can't grieve properly.]
The Ancient One stepped forward, hand raised. Two fingers outstretched, glowing with a soft, white-gold light.
Damian swallowed hard. "...Will she… come back?"
The Ancient One met his gaze. "When you are finished."
Pausing for a moment, unsure of saying what he thought. "…And if I break?"
"You won't," he said simply. And touched Damian's chest. The light rippled through him.
And everything shattered.
…
As the mirrors hummed to life, they started to show images, moments, a life.
His life.
He saw himself. Not as he was now, but as he had been:
His first life, his first memory. His mother, still 'healthy', soothing him to sleep with a lullaby, voice breaking between sobs, her face bruised.
Then, his second memory. His mother, this time being beaten by the monster he had to call 'father'. He tried to intervene, to save his mother. This time he was older, stronger, this time he could do something, like his favorite superhero on TV, he will save the day.
Or so he thought. That was the first time he was beaten, ruthlessly so, in spite of being merely 6 years old.
Time passed. Now it was 8 year old Damian, waking before the sun even came up. Dodging the alcohol induced vomit puddles throughout the house. No one left to clean them as his mother has been in the hospital for the last two weeks.
Little Damian getting himself dressed, ready to go out and do anything necessary to earn some pennies so he wouldn't go hungry to school.
Nothing was beyond him, running errands for flea market stalls, stealing the valve caps of car tires. Anything that would keep the hunger away.
Changing again, years went by. Damian now looked taller, broader. At 13 Damian was disillusioned with life. Jealous of his classmates luxurious lives, not having to worry about eating 4 times a day. Dressing in fitting clothes, their biggest problems were their parents forcing them to do homework while his day ended on a good note if he wasn't beaten after refusing to go buy cigarettes and beer with his own hard earned money.
The highlight of his day being getting to talk to his sick mother for more than 30 minutes, as she spent half of her day sleeping, but at least his father couldn't hurt her there.
Shifting to his 15th birthday. It showed Damian alone in an empty room. After years of saving all the money he could, he managed to find somebody who would rent this cheap studio apartment to a kid.
The place was old, needing repairs, smelling a bit moldy, yet it was his own.
Damian was reading a novel on his phone like usual. His only comfort in life since little, outside of visiting his mother, were the fantastic stories where characters could be happy, pursue greater goals in life than merely surviving. And even have happy endings.
These were the little things that made life bearable.
However, as the pattern of his life dictated, happiness would always be fleeting for him. Suddenly, he received a call, the number was familiar to him. It was from the hospital where his mother stayed at.
His stomach dropped like every time they took the initiative to call him, the creeping dread at the back of his mind about the ever worsening condition of his mother knocking on his insecurities with the force of a sledge hammer striking at full blast.
Picking up, the familiar voice of the receptionist spoke to him, in a somber tone. His Mom went into shock minutes ago. Her condition had taken a turn for the worse, again.
Rushing out of his house without hearing the rest, he arrived not even 5 minutes later, thankfully the apartment he got was close enough to the hospital to quickly reach it by foot.
There he awaited in the emergency ward for what felt like an eternity, his last human connection dancing at the edge of life and death.
After hours of waiting, doing his best to not crumble, the door finally opened, a doctor walking out, looking for the patient's family–after seeing a lone, distressed teenager dressed in old, ill-fitting clothes–the doctor's gaze hardened.
'Please no…' Damian thought at seeing the change in expression. In the most professional way possible, the doctor informed him that his mother hadn't made it, her body too weak after years of fighting her incurable disease to resist the hours-long surgery.
That was the first time Damian's world crumbled. He was always able to put up with his father's abuse, his classmate's ridicule at only having clothes too small or too big for him, worn and old. The exploitation of the only ones who were willing to give him a job in exchange for a miserable pay. He could withstand it all, because everyday he got to talk with his mother, even if only for 5 minutes at times.
Yet, the last bastion of light in his life vanished, and he wasn't even there to see it being snuffed out.
He wasn't even given the decency of being able to say goodbye.
An observant eye would be able to see the light vanishing out of young Damian's eyes, replaced by a hollow, vacant gaze. Simply muttering 'Okay' to the doctor, he sat down at the ward, looking at the ground in silence for hours on end.
After some time, the receptionist who was familiar with him, as he had been a regular visitor for the last seven years, brought to him a letter that was on his mother's rooms, a room he had managed to upgrade her to with a lot of effort last year. She said that she found the letter as they were cleaning the room, preparing it for the next patient, he assumed.
That's what seemed to snap him out of it. Taking the letter, he talked about the arrangements for his mother's body and after taking what little she had left, he returned to his new house. Sitting by himself, he opened the letter, the writing was a bit clumsy. Probably because she barely had the strength to lift a spoon for the last month. It read:
My lovely Dame, if you're reading this, it means that Mama's gone–Already, he was choking, forcing his tears back, but he forced himself to keep reading–please don't be sad. Truth is, Mama has been feeling worse and worse lately. I hate being sedated all the time, but the pain is too much for me. You know Mama has always been weak to pain.
I can feel that I don't have much time left and I don't know if I'll be awake to see you before my time comes, so I'm writing this letter in case I can't say goodbye in person.
I'm sorry that I wasn't able to go to all of your school events. I'm sorry I wasn't able to go to the parent's reunions. I'm sorry that I wasn't able to take you to school like other parents do with their children. I'm sorry I wasn't able to protect you from your father. Having failed at being a mother hurts me more than what any disease can. Mama's so so so terribly sorry.
–Clenching his jaw, Damian spoke to the void of the chamber as tears started to fall from his eyes. "Please don't say that. You are the best mom ever. There's nothing to forgive… PLEASE DON'T LEAVE ME! MAMA!"–Uncaring for his suffering, the memories of young Damian reading the letter continued.
But even then, you have always been so bright, so strong. You always took care of me, you never missed a day. You never cried or complained. You have always been the best son a mother could ask for and there are no words that can describe how much I love you, Osito. You were the greatest gift life has given me.
That's why, please take care of yourself. Remember to brush your teeth every day, three times a day. And remember to eat healthy, don't skip the greens on your plate, even if they don't taste that good. Don't sleep late. Keep studying, graduate from university and get a good job, don't end up like your Mama. You are smarter than me, and you are a handsome boy, so try to find a good girl who you can love and settle down with, I'm sure you'll have better luck in love than me.
–Suddenly, the writing became harder to read, more wobbly and clumsy than before–
I'm feeling tired, so I'll go to sleep for a bit. Hope to see you soon, Osito. Remember that no matter what happens, Mama loves you the most… She really really really reaaaally loves you…
–Each word was like a stab to Damian's heart, the pain so unbearable that he didn't even realize his nails were digging into his palms, drawing blood. "ENOUGH! PLEASE MAKE IT STOP! PLEASE!"–
Afterwards the images started to shift rapidly, showing Damian grow into a successful adult, perpetually wearing a mask. Burying his grief, his longing, his loss beneath a facade of success. Showing a mask of an unbothered, nonchalant and charming Damian that couldn't be shacked by anything the world threw at him.
Doing his best to live by the last wishes of his mother, except for the part of finding someone he could love. As his heart felt hollow, with a void that could never be quite filled.
Until he decided to build a little recreational center for kids like him. A place to give the kids of the poor, of the struggling, kids of broken homes a respite. A place to come and play, but also learn. As he loved to share his love for books with these kind and pure souls. And for the first time some semblance of purpose and real emotion returned to his lonely life.
Again though, that all came crashing down merely a year later as he got stabbed to death by a kidnapper.
As stupid as it was, Damian made sure to keep him back until the police arrived, even if it was the last thing he'd do. He was unwilling to let the new light of his tormented life be stolen away and damaged by letting this kidnapper go and come back more prepared.
He felt it was so unfair, so stupid, so cruel. Why must people be this way? Those were his last thoughts as darkness took him in her embrace.
Shifting again, the images changed. A new room, a new Damian.
Waking up in a new world. Reborn, a newborn in a sixteen year old body. People smiling at him. Calling him Damian. Yet not knowing what he'd lost. Who he'd lost. Who he really was. Who he thought he was.
The boy who had to suddenly confront this new reality, a life in a universe that had literal gods in spandex, cosmic tyrants, but no plot armor to ensure the heroes will save the day.
Faced with a new start, new connections, new people. People who had made their way into Damian's heart in the short time they've spent together.
The memories of this life influenced him, made him more open. More receptive to the idea of letting people into his heart. Of loving and being loved.
A concept that terrified him. For he was scared, scared of abandonment, scared of betrayal, of being disappointed. But most of all, he was scared of letting new people in, just to lose them too. Just like how he has lost his parents.
The parents he had to bury before he was even allowed to drink and drive. Again.
Just that this time he had to bury both parents, numb, quiet, pretending it didn't break him. But now he was forced to face them. Face their loss.
His new parents. Loving, warm, real.
Gone.
Again.
Taken by fate from him.
Again.
Another light of his snuffed out, before he could even feel their love, hear their voice, eat with them, joke with them. Present his first girlfriend to them. Have them take care of his child, to spoil their grandkid like they spoiled him.
All of it, negated to him, just because. Just because fate thought it was fun to fuck with him.
Again.
AGAIN!
AGAIN!
AGAIN!
AGAIN!
However, there was nothing that could shield him from taking it all in now. No companion to help him cope, to accompany him, to alleviate the all consuming void of solitude that threatened to swallow him whole, only a rope in the form of a nascent consciousness keeping him from falling into it.
Now there was no help to keep him focused on his newfound powers. His new goals. Obsessively immersed in his new training, extending his time awake as much as possible, afraid of falling asleep, of dreaming again. Too preoccupied with preparing for the future while balancing his new present to stop and look at the haunting, painful past.
Now it was only him, forced to look at his life. to experience his life, this time with no filters.
Now all there it was raw, unfiltered emotions.
It hit him like a tidal wave. This time not a memory. Not a thought. A feeling.
Pain.
Raw. Undiluted. Unfiltered by Eva's calming presence. He was on his knees before he realized it, clutching his chest while gasping for a breath that wouldn't come. His chest felt like it was being crushed from the inside. His vision blurred. Not from magic, but from the tears burning in his eyes.
The memories didn't play back. They bled.
He screamed. Not with words. Just sound. With pure anguish.
He hit the floor with his fists. One, two, three times… Until his hand bled and burned in pain, yet he couldn't feel it. The pain of loss blinded all other forms of pain. Tears hit the floor, hot, fast. Unending. Staining the runes beneath his knees. Runes that shimmered with each hit.
He felt it all.
The rage. The confusion. The resentment. The unbearable unfairness of living twice and losing everything twice.
All of it.
And through it all, he reached.
"E-Eva… EVA! PLEASE!... please…"
Yet there was no answer. Only silence. The first time since they'd awakened that he was truly… truly alone.
Time passed. Maybe minutes. Maybe hours. But eventually… The storm began to pass.
His hands loosened, no longer balled into fist, yet still marred with his own blood. His breath slowly evening out. He was on his back now. The weight on his chest didn't vanish, just settled. Becoming more tangible, yet more bearable. Not a gaping wound. Just a scar.
He sat up, slowly. His body trembled, but his eyes. His eyes were clear. Looking up, yet not at the ceiling, as if looking through the sanctum towards Manhattan's sky. Whispering, he said. "...I'm still here."
And from deep within him, warm and sure. [You are.] Eva's somewhat strained voice. It seems he wasn't the only one who cried. Yet her voice was soft. Steady. Proud.
He exhaled, an involuntary sob escaping halfway through his breath while he laughed, lighter than before. Maybe lighter than ever. "…Welcome back."
[Never left. Just turned down the volume.] She said with equal lightheartedness.
A figure approached. The Ancient One, hands behind his back, nodded once. "You have met yourself, Damian Rossi. And you have not looked away."
Damian stood. Wincing slightly when using his hands to support himself. Yet he was steady, whole.
And in that quiet moment, the Sanctum shimmered slightly. Almost as if the house itself acknowledged what had happened. The first trial was over, and there were more to come.