Damien's POV

　　"Again." My father's shrill voice bounced off the derelict walls of the training room; Its high ceilings and neglected walls meant that awful sound carried, which of course, was the purpose I noted touching the fabric he had placed over my eyes to limit my vision and hide his advances. He wanted me to 'feel and sense' my way through training today. 

　　"What is the use of having a wolf, son, if you do not rely on some of its powers occasionally." He grunted. Closing my eyes, I almost wish he was back on team 'suppress wolf' because he had had me training ever since I returned home today. 

　　"We might as well have him stuffed and mounted on the wall, given how useless he is." My father taunted me for what felt like the millionth time. Ares was ignoring him, refusing to be baited. He knew my father just wanted to assess and use him in his twisted plots for power and control. 

　　Plots that he wanted no part of! His focus today was solely on Red and her birthday! 

　　With another swing of my father's wooden bokken to the back of my legs, I crashed to my knees, unable to defend myself from his unexpected assault. My father was fast; I had always prided myself on being faster, but with my vision cut off, I found it hard to keep up! Or stand up!

　　"A little help would be nice." I moaned to Ares, but still, he had nothing to say, unwilling to intervene and protect me from my father's attack. Frustration at being ignored got the better of him, and he administered another blow to my flank, wincing as I fell forward onto my hands. Groaning, I attempted to pull myself up, but my father quickly swept my feet from under me, knocking me on my ass. 

　　"FOR FUCK SAKE!" I roared, "Let me get up!" 

　　"Why?" He scoffed cruelly. "Do you think your enemy will take pity on your sorry ass and let you get up before he launches another blow, or will he strike when you are vulnerable?" He asked as he dispensed an impact upon my skull that left me dizzy. Stretching my hands up to pull my makeshift blindfold down, I groaned, realising my father had secured it in place with magic. 

　　"Seriously?" I groaned, rolling onto my back and laying my head on the still floor to stop the dizziness from swallowing me up.

　　"He won't hurt you. You are his son! He is just testing the waters!" Ares finally expressed.

　　"Really, because I am pretty sure THAT hurt! Did you not hear the crack when that wood collided with my head."

　　"Nah, you have a thick head. All is good!" He retaliated, making me grow. As if hearing Ares and I heard my father's footsteps move around me to the left. 

　　"Perhaps he doesn't think I am serious!" My father's entertained voice mused. Closing my eyes, I pictured the training room to try and grasp his whereabouts and subsequently, his next move. 

　　Feeling the cold floor, I relaxed slightly; my fingers dug into one of the deep marks on the wooden floor, letting me know precisely where I Was and what was around me. Recalling the room in my mind's eye, I knew that the newly built boxing ring was to the right of me; around it hung punching bags and other equipment. Following the scarce walls around, I knew that behind the ring; the walls were filled with gloves, rope, and props used for boxing. 

　　Opposite my feet, the large oak door, with our family motto engraved above into the wood. "Weed out the weak" Was that what my father was trying to do with my wolf? Trying to figure out if Ares needed weeding out from the herd? Well, fuck him! Yesterday he was all; patience and bide your time! Today he is preaching a different story altogether! 

　　"Bastard is bipolar!" Ares mumbled mindlessly.

　　Ignoring him, I followed the room around to where a bookcase held ancient books on long-lost magical enchantments, charms and runes that would help a warrior harness extra strength, speed, agility and other such skills. Besides that, a cabinet':a with multiple training staffs, sticks, wooden swords, and bokkens like the one my father had just beat me with. Along the back wall, an altar sat; although it was not a god he worshipped but another deity together, one who thrived off mayhem and destruction. 

　　My father got far too much pleasure from turning this old church that was once used for prayers to heaven and holy worship into a haven he used to unleash bloody hell, the walls seeing nothing but pain and suffering. 

　　Mostly my pain! Mostly my suffering! 

　　"Which I guess in your father's fucked up kind of way is heaven on earth!" Ares grinned. He was right; my father loved nothing more than the suffering of others and the chaos that followed! 

　　Hearing the howl of the door open, I knew exactly where my father was going; the armoury. I often found him in a room admiring all the weapons he had accumulated during his years on this earth; he had ancient tribal clubs and spears, enchanted bows and arrows he had stolen from the bodies of the faes he had conquered. Axes with magical engravings that gave their host extra strength and prowess! Swords from ancient knights that had been long forgotten and lost to folklore or fairy tales. 

　　He had a serious stockpile of weapons.

　　Hearing the clink of metal touching metal, I knew my father's temper with Ares was running thin, and he planned to force my wolf's hand! 

　　My heart was pounding as the room fell deadly silent, I could tell that Ares's senses were going into overdrive, but he remained ever-stubborn and refused to give in to my father's demand. Eventually, one of them would have to bend, or I would end up broken! 

　　Hyperfocusing on every potential noise, I waited for my father to strike, knowing he would not hold back; rolling on my side, I lifted myself to my knees, preparing to dodge the next savage strike. Losing my balance when searing pain split my side, my breath caught in my throat as I nearly choked in fear, falling back as fire caused through my body, ripping me apart from the inside. My hand darted to the open wound, feeling my hot tacky life force coat my fingers. 

　　"I can't heal it!" Fear exploded from my core, feeling Ares' hiss through our bond. Years I had been training with my father, and never had he used anything on me that my demonic blood could not heal! 

　　"Fuck! What was that?" My eyes widen under the soft fabric feeling it slice across my rib cage again, tearing my skin. "STOP!"

　　"Let your wolf out!" My father hissed, dragging the blade lightly over my skin again. "You might be my son, but do not think I won't gut you like a pig to get what I want!"