To Ashes And Blood

Countdown To Midnight

Damien pushed open the door to the bar where he first met Vesna.

The music was quieter now.

He stopped by a man passing through the door.

“Where's everybody?”

The man continued walking.

“Nobody would miss tonight's match at the arena, news is, we have a new contender”

Damien took a deep breath as he stood by the counter and glanced around the room. His face lit up as he spotted Oma at a table.

"There you are."

Immediately she saw him, Oma stood up from the table so abruptly her chair scraped across the floor.

She marched straight toward him. Before Damien could say anything, she hit him on his chest.

"Do you have any idea how long I've been waiting?"

Damien blinked.

"Oma…."

"Almost an hour!"

She hit him again.

"I thought you were dead!"

People nearby glanced over before returning to their drinks.

Damien caught her wrist before she could walk away.

"I wasn't out there playing."

She stopped.

"Then explain yourself."

He told her everything from finding Vesna to looking for the devil, to later finding out that Vesna is actually the devil. He told her of the waiting hall, the four pillars and the midnight tournament.

He tried his best not to leave a single detail out.

Oma just sat and listened without interrupting him. The more he spoke, the more infuriated she became. By the time he finished, she stared at him like he'd lost his mind.

"You agreed?"

Damien nodded.

"What else could I do?"

She laughed.

"What in the name of Ember made you think..."

She pointed directly at him.

"...that you can beat Iron Fist ?"

Damien sighed.

"I don't."

There was silence between them for a split second.

"I had no choice."

He looked toward the window.

"If I walk away now…."

He sighed loudly as he cupped his face in his hands.

".....everything we've done tonight was for nothing."

He rubbed the back of his neck.

"I have less than an hour to prepare for someone I don't even know."

Oma looked at him for several seconds.

Then she spun around.

"Come."

Damien frowned.

"Where are we going?"

She didn't even slow down.

"I've barely known you for twelve hours..."

She kept walking.

"...and now you want to die on me."

Damien hurried after her.

"Oma."

"If you're going to die….."

She finally glanced back.

".....then you'd better know something about the person who's going to kill you."

They walked for a short while before coming to a hotel. From where they stood, they could see the arena's light stretching high into the night sky.

After staring in that direction for a while, Oma dragged him into the hotel.

At the counter, a man immediately recognized Oma.

"Oh the Whole. I haven't seen you in weeks."

Oma scoffed.

"You're still alive?"

"Barely my love."

He laughed.

"You know you still owe me for room fourteen."

"I remember."

“Oh do you now, it seems like you've been avoiding me."

“No I have not.”

Oma playfully poked him with his finger.

The hotel owner looked past Oma.

“Well well well, who do we have here this time?”

Oma tilted her head and blocked him.

“He's not one of your play toys Darion.”

“Oh pardon me sweetheart, I just want to get to know him, that's all.”

“Listen Darion…..”

Oma glanced beyond the table at the workers. She took Darion’s to a corner.

“He met the devil tonight.”

She glanced shortly at Damien.

“The devil is making him fight in the tournament tonight.”

Darion dramatically covered his mouth.

“Oh, poor boy. So how can I help you?”

“We need records of the Iron Fist ’s matches.”

“Well surely I can help with that…..”

He rubbed his fingers together in front of Oma's face.

Oma sighed and took out a chip.

“Oh and don't forget the previous seven hundred blood embers for room fourteen.”

He stretched out his arm and Oma placed the chip. In a split second, Darion smiled as he heard a chime.

“Ouuuuu, my second favourite sound. Now if you'll excuse me…..”

He walked past Oma and towards Damien.

“.....I don't know what the contract you signed with the devil but you'll need all the luck on this rotten earth to defeat the Iron Fist ”

He tapped Damien's butt and walked towards a crooked metal staircase.

Damien’s expression changed immediately. Oma placed a hand on his shoulder.

“Ignore him.”

The two followed Darion up the stairs.

They stopped in front of a rusted door.

“Here we are….Oma if you need anything you know where to find me…..”

He turned to Damien.

“ ….you too sweetheart, mi casa is now su casa.”

Damien looked at him with a stern face. Darion giggled.

“Ouuu…..slow down tiger, rawrrrr.”

He handed over the door unlock chip to Oma and walked a few steps before turning back to Damien.

“If you need anything papi, it's on the house.”

He winked and left.

Oma had unlocked the door and walked in. She stood in front of the console, trying to tune to the tournament archives.

“How do you even manage to know people like this?”

Damien asked as he shut the door.

After finally getting the console setting right, Oma turned to him.

“You have less than an hour till you're a dead man. So you better focus on this like your life depends on it.”

“Right….ignore the question”

Oma throws herself onto the couch.

Damien sat beside her. Not too close but Oma moved to the farther end of the couch.

Damien looks at her briefly before shifting his gaze to the old static CRT television.

The old television buzzed loudly before the picture finally became steady.

A young announcer appeared on the screen.

"Ladies and gentlemen!"

The crowd behind him roared.

"Tonight…..the reigning champion returns!"

A man wearing a black mask stepped into the arena.

Damien immediately leaned forward.

"...That's him, that's the man I saw on the hologram earlier tonight."

Oma nodded.

"Iron Fist ."

The screen became static for a split second.

The challenger lunged wildly at The Iron Fist with ice spikes following closely behind him.

As he got closer, Iron Fist clapped, a thunderous wind sent the man crashing into the arena wall.

The referee counted down from ten to zero.

The announcer screamed immediately the countdown hit zero.

"Iron Fist remains undefeated!"

Immediately the footage ended, another recording immediately replaced it. This time the fight lasted longer.

Iron Fist never rushed, he parried every attack that was thrown at him before clapping the head of his opponent to a pulp.

"...Winner! Iron Fist!"

After what felt like twenty long minutes, Damien had seen a couple of recordings and as the next one came on, he turned to look at Oma who had fallen asleep on the couch.

He stared at her for a while before shifting his gaze to the bed. He got a duvet and covered her before getting back to the television.

The next challenger carried an enormous hammer.

The weapon shattered almost easily against Iron Fist's forearm.

The hammer wielder lasted barely twenty seconds.

Another match came on almost immediately.

This time the challenger was faster.

His Echo seemed to allow him to disappear and reappear.

Iron Fist simply stood and observed the challenger.

Then as the challenger appeared behind Iron Fist , in one swift punch, Iron Fist ended everything.

Damien blinked as he leaned forward.

Another recording came on from a recent year.

This recording started from Iron Fist bleeding. The challenger had knocked him backward.

Damien smiled.

“So he can actually be hurt.”

After being pushed back to the corner for the ring, Iron Fist stood back up.

As the challenger came rushing at him, he adjusted his stand and accurately clapped the head of the challenger immediately he got closer.

Damien's smile slowly faded.

The room became silent as the recording loaded for longer than usual.

Only the sound of the old television remained.

Damien rested his elbows on his knees and folded his hands together under his chin.

His eyes remained fixed on his screen. Finally, another recording began.

As always, Iron Fist came from the tunnel.

This time Damien noticed something as Iron Fist got into the ring.

“Wait….” he whispered to himself.

Iron Fist reached into his coat and carefully removed a small photograph. For several seconds, he stared at it.

He then kissed it, folded it and returned it to his pocket.

Damien frowned.

"...What's that about?"

About fifteen minutes into the match, one question constantly tugged at Damien's mind.

"Why does he wear the mask?"

He cupped his face in his hands and sighed.

"If I lose…..Iron Fist disappears."

He looked toward Oma who was still sound asleep.

"But if nobody knows the man behind the mask....then he might never be able to meet him again."

Damien sighed and continued watching the recordings.

This time he paid attention to every detail and only then did he notice.

Every single match, Iron Fist reaches into his coat for that same small photograph while in the arena or before entering the arena.

Damien didn't give it much thought as he glanced at the clock mounted above the television.

11:35 PM.

“Twenty-five minutes left.”

His chest tightened.

The recordings had given him answers but they did not feel enough.

He stood up and headed towards the door.

Oma was still asleep beneath the duvet.

A loose strand of hair had fallen across her face.

Without waking her, Damien quietly brushed it aside and pulled the duvet a little higher over her shoulder.

He stared at her for a minute.

"Thank you," he murmured.

Damien glanced around the room one last time before he stepped out.

The arena was already overflowing. Different people coming in and out of the gates while vendors shouted over one another.

The deeper Damien walked into the crowd, the louder the cheers became.

Just inside the entrance, there was a narrow bar crowded with spectators.

Damien stepped up to the counter.

"Give me your strongest drink, please."

The bartender slid over a small glass.

Damien had barely taken a sip when someone bumped his shoulder.

The drink sloshed over the rim.

"Oh….my bad, my bad…"

The stranger held the glass before it could fall.

"My apologies, I take full responsibility."

Damien shook his head.

"It's fine."

The man had a wide smile and offered Damien a handshake.

"Rias."

"Damien."

Rias laughed.

"First time?"

"...Is it that obvious?"

"You still got on that academy shirt, old timers know to come here discreetly."

Damien couldn't help but smile.

The two shared a brief moment together.

Then a horn echoed through the arena and both men instinctively looked up.

A massive hologram flickered to life above the entrance with headshots of the contenders.

MIDNIGHT TOURNAMENT

Iron Fist VS DAMIEN

Rias's smile disappeared.

He slowly turned toward Damien.

"...You're Damien?"

Damien gave a small nod.

For a second, Rias stared at him before letting out a low whistle.

"Damn..."

He patted Damien on the shoulder.

"Good luck senior."

Rias started walking away before stopping.

"If you walk out of that arena alive..."

He chuckled.

"...buy me a drink."

He glanced back with a wide smile.

"...Because you'll be one lucky son of a gun."

Rias disappeared into the sea of people.

Damien looked back up at the glowing image of Iron Fist 's mask.

Then, without another word, he walked toward the arena gates.