Chapter 11: Journey of freedom

Damien's first year with the Wanderers was unlike anything he could have imagined. After barely surviving the chaos of his high school years and the twisted underground fighting circuit, he had thought he'd seen the worst the world could throw at him. He was wrong. The Wanderers—an elusive group of supernatural warriors who had chosen to rebel against the factions of both Heaven and Hell—had taken him in, offering him sanctuary, training, and something he hadn't realized he needed: purpose.

The Wanderers didn't follow any god or demon. They lived outside the boundaries of myth, legend, and the rules that had been imposed on the world by higher powers. Their existence was one of freedom, but it came at a price. They were hunted, not only by angels and demons but by creatures from every pantheon—mythological beings who saw the Wanderers as threats to their carefully controlled order.

Damien, still reeling from the discovery of his own supernatural origins, fit right in.

His first year with the Wanderers was brutal. The training was relentless, pushing him far beyond the limits of any human—far beyond even the strength he had developed in the underground fighting ring. Unlike the coach and gang leaders who had once controlled his life, the Wanderers were not interested in money or fame. They were interested in survival. And survival meant mastering the powers that Damien had barely begun to understand.

His mentors were hardened warriors, each from a different world, a different myth. There was Kara, a Valkyrie who had defected from the halls of Valhalla after growing disillusioned with the eternal war of the gods. She was relentless, her training focused on weaponry and combat tactics. Then there was Niko, a half-djinn from an ancient desert city, who had once been part of a pantheon but had chosen to walk away. Niko taught Damien to harness his inner strength—his supernatural abilities. He helped Damien learn to control the bursts of power that surged through him during battles.

Finally, there was Elen, a Celtic warrior whose soul had once belonged to the Morrígan, the goddess of war. She taught Damien the importance of strategy, of reading the battlefield, and of thinking beyond brute force. Elen believed that no amount of raw power would save him if he couldn't outsmart his enemies. And in this world, his enemies weren't just human—they were gods, demons, and creatures from other dimensions.

Under their guidance, Damien grew stronger, faster, more focused. His supernatural resilience—the ability to endure damage and recover from injuries faster than anyone else—became sharper. He could take blows that would have killed him before and walk away unscathed. But more than that, he was learning to control it, to channel it into his attacks, his defense. He was no longer just surviving; he was thriving.

But training with the Wanderers was more than just physical preparation. It was a test of will. Their lives were always on the run, moving between dimensions and realms, constantly hunted. They trained not only to fight but to outwit and outlast the forces of Heaven, Hell, and everything in between. Damien quickly learned that being a Wanderer meant more than strength—it meant embracing the chaos and uncertainty of life on the edge of existence.

Then came the Dungeon Towers.

The Dungeon Towers were structures of legend, created by the gods themselves. Each tower was a gateway to untold trials, designed to test and train their champions. Some said they were built to entertain the gods, who watched as mortals struggled and fought their way through the layers of the towers. Others believed the towers were meant to hone warriors for the divine wars that would one day break out between the pantheons.

Whatever their true purpose, the towers were dangerous. Anyone could enter, but not everyone made it out alive. For the Wanderers, the towers represented the ultimate training ground. If you survived the towers, you were more than just a fighter—you were a champion, a warrior capable of standing toe-to-toe with the gods themselves.

Damien's first encounter with the Dungeon Towers was overwhelming. Standing before one of the towering structures, he felt a pull deep in his chest, like something ancient and primal was calling to him. The tower seemed to hum with power, its smooth stone surface etched with runes from countless mythologies. It was a place where the lines between reality and legend blurred.

The Wanderers took Damien to a tower hidden in the folds of a forgotten realm—one that existed outside the eyes of the gods. The entrance alone was massive, a gaping maw that seemed to swallow the light around it. Kara, Niko, and Elen stood with him, their faces grim.

"This is where we train our own," Kara said, her hand resting on the hilt of her sword. "The gods built these towers to test their champions. We use them to prove that we can stand without their favor."

"The tower will know what you are," Elen warned, her eyes dark. "It will push you harder than anything else ever has. It will try to break you."

Niko gave a thin smile. "It'll be fun."