38. Hot'n Cold.

Damon walked into the next chamber, his mind clear now, his lust flowing and his bloodlust fully satisfied. This was a battle arena. He could sense the energy of so many battles here and he could smell them, too. In this ancient stone chamber, splatters on the wall and floor told them cruel language about battles that had been taking place. 

His steps were sure on the hard stone floor and he was dressed in loose pants and his upper body was now bare. He had sneakers, and he walked like a predator. Light came from windows near the ceiling, which was very high and there was an enormous window on the roof too, so natural light gave illumination to this space.

Damon took a deep breath and there was just a sudden shift in magic in the air, and three wizards appeared before him. This would be a test of purity and as twisted as these tests had been, he knew it would not be a simple test. Or straightforward because these tests measured so much more than just what had been said.

He kept his focus on. He did not let his rage to come the surface. Not at all. Because he knew that rage makes one sloppy and now it was not time to be sloppy. He bowed slightly to the wizards, keeping his expression neutral, waiting for them to tell him what this test was all about. 

Their dark robes seemed to absorb light, keeping them in darkness and damon was not sure what color those robes were even. At some point, they had looked black, and then dark blue, but now, they were like darkness around the wizards. Damon had learned by this time that these were old wizards, meaning there was no guarantee that they would be all good. Because with age, one's morals will shift and once you are ancient enough, there is not so much humanity on your left, so everything goes more or less. But he was so ready for this. 

The eldest of the wizards spoke again, his voice echoing in the sunlit chamber. "This is your fourth test. Test of purity," he said, his words carrying a weight of anticipation.

The air was heavy with the scent of ancient magic.

"One can be pure of thoughts easily too, when it comes to everyday life. But who can be pure during battle?" His voice grew louder, commanding attention. "Who can keep a focus, and a goal in their mind and keep their purity same time, not trying to cheat or use darkness to their advantage?"

The room was filled with an eerie silence, broken only by the sound of distant footsteps.

"This test is the most physical of them all." The words hung in the air, creating a sense of anticipation.

He paused, allowing the gravity of his words to sink in, before speaking once more, his voice now booming with authority. "You will face golems, made of clay, and each one of them has a heart. One stone like this, hidden in their body. And it is always in a different place."

The room was filled with the scent of damp earth, mingling with the metallic tang of anticipation. "The only way to stop that golem is to get that heart and break it."

A sense of tension filled the chamber as the wizards' words settled.

"You have to face 18 golems," he continued, his voice steady. "They are 2 meters tall, weigh quite a lot as they are made of clay, and have the initiative to kill."

The sound of heavy footsteps reverberated through the room, a haunting symphony of impending danger. "You are immortal, but they will try their best."

The air grew colder, sending a shiver down Damon's spine.

"Can you beat them all and not lose your purity of fighter?" The question hung in the air, taunting Damon's resolve. "You need to know what is your purity. What is so sacred to you that you are not willing to lose it? And can you fight without giving in to darkness and deceit?"

Damon took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the challenge settle upon him. The air grew heavy with anticipation, each breath tinged with a sense of determination.

The wizards said nothing more, their presence fading into the shadows. Soon, a door creaked open, and one by one, the golems entered the chamber. The room was filled with the sound of their heavy footsteps, a cacophony of impending danger.

Damon's heart raced, and his senses heightened. He could almost feel the cool touch of clay as he brushed against the golems, his fingertips searching for the hidden stones. The weight of each golem's presence pressed down upon him, a constant reminder of the challenge at hand.

Damon sighed inwardly, his mind racing with strategies. He had assumed it would be a one-on-one battle, but now he faced the daunting task of dealing with all 18 golems at once. The room seemed to close in around him, the air thick with anticipation.

The scent of clay filled his nostrils, mingling with the metallic tang of his sweat. The temptation to unleash his rage surged within him, threatening to consume his thoughts. But he knew he had to stay focused, to resist the call of darkness and deceit. With every step he took, he felt the weight of the challenge, the determination to prove himself.

Damon's senses heightened as he prepared for the battle ahead. The sight of the towering golems, the sound of their heavy footsteps, the scent of clay, and the touch of determination coursing through his veins. He would face this test with unwavering purity, refusing to let darkness taint his spirit.

He asked his mind to Mimi, "What are your thoughts about this one? How in hell will I win them without giving into my rage?"

Mimi's voice carried a hint of boredom, and she replied, "Well, you are a wizard, and stones are minerals. Try to find one and create a spell that will reveal the locations of the others. As for your rage, I can lend you mine, but be cautious of its impact on your purity. Also, use your feline shape to your advantage. Transform into a smaller, nimble creature and maneuver yourself in a way that causes the enemies to collide. Consider severing their legs to impede their movement. Toss their limbs away so they cannot retrieve them easily."

Damon grunted, appreciating Mimi's suggestions. It seemed plausible and might just work. However, he was uncertain about transforming into a smaller creature until Mimi shared her own experiences.

Before anything else, he channeled his energy into crafting a weapon - a sword made of pure energy. His intention was to dismember the golems, locate a stone, cast the spell, and assess its effectiveness. He refrained from tapping into Mimi's rage at this point, aware of its formidable strength.

It was time to attack. Damon swiftly swung his sword at the approaching herd of colossal golems. His vampire speed aided him, but there was a spell in effect. He noticed a vast ring-shaped arena, providing him with limited space to maneuver. The sound of a sword slicing the air was heard as his sword sliced through it, cleaving a golem into two halves that crumbled into dust.

Damon's energy sword pierced the golem's heart, resulting in a curse escaping his lips. He now needed to find another golem to locate better targets. Relentlessly, he severed their legs, yet some absorbed the nearest limb, regenerating it seamlessly. Without mercy, Damon aimed to determine the location of their hearts, striking their chests and everywhere else. Those stones were quite small and they could be anywhere in these monsters.

Suddenly, a golem slammed into his chest, sending him crashing to the ground. The others lunged at him, but he swiftly transformed into a sand cat, darting between their legs in the slightly more open area. Resuming his true form, Damon struck with his sword once again.

Amidst the chaos, he caught a glimmer on one golem's chest. However, as the wound healed, he was uncertain which golem possessed the heart. Determined, he aimed for the chests of all the golems, targeting the spot where the heart had once resided. 

His body ached, every muscle sore and fatigued. The wounds on his skin throbbed with pain, a constant reminder of the battle he had endured. Deep within him, a simmering rage threatened to boil over, but he fought to keep it contained.

His hands had taken three golems. Only three, but it had taken a toll on him. He desperately searched for the fourth heart, the missing piece needed to complete the spell. He had used his magic, crafting intricate traps to trip and disorient his foes, creating openings for his strikes. But these golems seemed immune to fatigue, their strength unwavering.

He swung his blade, attempting to sever their limbs, their heads, anything to incapacitate them. But the confined space worked against him, as they always found the parts he had severed. He was constantly on the defensive, unable to focus on a single enemy. His experience as a seasoned fighter allowed him to maneuver and surprise his opponents, but it demanded every ounce of his energy.

He drew inspiration from Mimi's playbook, resisting the temptation to succumb to her fiery rage. Darkness threatened to consume him, but he fought against it. Then, he found it - the missing heart. The stone felt cold and lifeless in his hand as he recited the incantation. Each golem now emitted a bright glow, revealing the location of their hearts. They fought back with renewed fury, guarding their life source.

Summoning his favorite weapon, a staff forged from pure energy, he launched a relentless assault against the hearts. The golems retaliated, inflicting damage upon him. But he pressed on, driven by the urgency to end this battle. His strength was finite, unlike the tireless golems, and he knew he couldn't push his limits much further. Victory was within reach, and the next challenge would be the final one.

One by one, the golems fell under his onslaught. Nothing else mattered now except finishing this. He hadn't tapped into his rage, relying solely on cold, calculated logic and the instincts of a seasoned fighter. Centuries of experience and countless battles had honed his skills. Mimi's guidance and his ability to shape-shift proved invaluable in this struggle. The versatility it provided was a true advantage.

The air crackled with the sound of clashing weapons and the golems' roars. Sweat trickled down his forehead, mingling with the dirt and blood on his face. The acrid scent of magic permeated the air, a mix of burnt ozone and ancient power. Every movement, every strike, reverberated through his weary body.

He fought on, his determination unyielding. This was it - no room for evasion, only confrontation. He had to end this now. His strength waned, but he refused to let fatigue dictate the outcome. The last challenge awaited, and he yearned for the taste of victory.

After the last of them had been slayed, Damon stood amidst the aftermath, his grip still tight on his staff. He could feel the sting of wounds, the searing pain of lacerations, and the throbbing ache of broken bones that slowly mended over time. The scent of blood and sweat hung heavy in the air, mixing with the metallic tang of magic.

He no longer needed Mimi by his side. All he wanted was to face the ultimate challenge, to end this ordeal. His thoughts were consumed by the longing to return to Mariella, to be reunited with his pack, and to put an end to this relentless struggle. There was no desire to indulge in Mimi's company or drain her life force. Damon had yet to succumb to bloodlust, and he yearned for this to reach its conclusion.

Exhaustion weighed heavily on him, each step a laborious effort, but his passion for Mariella burned brighter with every passing moment of separation. The mere thought of her seemed impossible to bear. Suddenly, wizards materialized before him, their presence interrupting his train of thought.

It was the youngest, or at least Damon, perceived them as such, who addressed him. "You are a pure fighter. Your skill in combat is clear, but you are more than just a killing machine. You employ your intellect, a true mark of a skilled warrior. You have resisted the pull of darkness and the temptation to succumb to anger, knowing it would lead to carelessness and mistakes. Instead, you exercise restraint, using your experience and embracing your nature as a shifter. Well done. Do you need an hour with your companion?"

Damon shook his head in response, declining the offer of an hour with his companion.

"No need for that now. I am prepared for the last challenge," he declared.

The wizard nodded in understanding.

The oldest among them spoke next, their voice carrying the weight of wisdom. "You have one last test, the test of your immortal spirit. It may be the easiest physically, but it measures your choices and the consequences they entail. This is not just a test; it is a lesson. On this personal journey, there is no right or wrong. It is a mandatory step towards becoming a true wizard. You must understand that every choice leads to a different path. Even the smallest decision can have a significant impact in the long run, and one must learn to accept this burden of choice."

Damon's voice resonated in the air as he spoke. "I have my share of actions and consequences, and it is the lesson that I am learning every day."

The sound of his words echoed in the quiet room. He could feel the weight of his choices, knowing that each one carried a responsibility he couldn't ignore.

Wizard nodded in agreement, his long white beard swaying gently as he spoke, "Well said, young one. But let's show you the true measure of your spirit."

The room was filled with a sense of anticipation. The air was heavy with the smell of old books and aged wood.

"Sometimes our choices can break us, or they can mend us," Wizard continued.

Damon could feel his heart pounding in his chest, a mixture of nerves and determination.

"But we have no choice but to move on after each choice we make. And bear whatever it brings us."

With a flick of his wrist, Wizard made a mystical gesture, and the heavy wooden door creaked open. The sound echoed through the room, sending a shiver down Damon's spine. They stepped forward, their footsteps making a soft thud against the polished stone floor. Damon followed closely behind, the coolness of the stone seeping through the soles of his shoes.

As they ventured further into the unknown, Damon's mind wandered to his home. He longed to return to Mariella and his pack, to be reunited with his cubs. The thought brought a sense of comfort amidst the uncertainty of the test that awaited him. He took a deep breath, ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead and prove his worth.