Cold, sharp, whispering through Crime Alley like a ghost begging to be noticed.
Damian Wayne crouched on a rooftop overlooking the alleyway, golden eyes narrowed behind his mask.
He wasn't here for the League.
He wasn't here for Ra's.
He wasn't here for his mother.
He was here because the System forced him.
And the System never gave useless warnings
System Alert (Hidden from the World)
A red panel materialized in Damian's vision.
[Immediate Threat Detected]
[Target: Slade Wilson — Deathstroke]
[Objective: Slade intends to assassinate you and claim control of the League]
[Primary Mission: Neutralize or kill Slade Wilson]
[Reward: Mera Mera no Mi — Flame-Flame Fruit]
[System Modification: Devil Fruit Weaknesses Nullified — No drowning, no seawater weakness, full compatibility achieved]
[Failure Penalty: Death]
Damian's teeth clenched.
Deathstroke had always watched him.
Measured him.
Judged him.
Now he wanted Damian dead.
"…He's making his move tonight."
Damian stood.
And then the air behind him shifted—just a ripple, silent but unmistakable.
Someone else was here.
Someone who could hide even from the Transparent World.
Damian turned.
And saw him.
Batman Arrives — Silently, Like a Grim Verdict
The Dark Knight stood in the alleyway's mouth, cloak draping like a shadow given shape.
He said nothing at first.
He just stared at Damian.
Damian's heartbeat jumped.
He shouldn't be here.
Not tonight.
Not when Deathstroke is hunting me.
Batman stepped forward, boots silent on the cracked pavement.
"You again."
His voice was deep, resonant, impossible to ignore.
Damian tensed without meaning to.
Batman noticed.
He always noticed.
"You were at the biotech fundraiser.
You were the one Black Mask's men couldn't hit."
Damian said nothing.
Batman looked him up and down.
"You're fast. Very fast. Too fast to be untrained."
A long pause.
You breathe like a warrior."
Damian's pulse spiked.
Batman was listening to his breathing pattern—the very rhythm of Sun Breathing.
"Who taught you that?" Bruce asked quietly.
Damian forced his voice deeper.
"No one you know."
Batman took another step.
Damian automatically stepped back.
This time Batman stopped moving.
His eyes narrowed.
"…That was a trained retreat stance."
Damian's muscles coiled.
If Batman got one step closer, he'd see too much.
He'd see the stance of the League.
The stance of his own bloodline.
Batman extended a hand—
not to attack, but to test.
"Let me see your face."
Damian's heart slammed against his ribs.
If Batman saw him, it would be over.
Slade Wilson Interrupts
A bullet ripped through the night.
A perfect sniper shot.
Damian sensed it through Transparent World—
but Batman moved first.
Bruce lunged forward, grabbing Damian's cape and yanking him out of the bullet's path.
CLANG!
The bullet struck a metal pipe where Damian's skull had been.
Batman growled.
"Sniper! Northwest rooftop!"
Damian whispered:
"…Deathstroke."
Batman froze.
"You know him?"
Damian didn't answer.
Another bullet fired.
Batman dodged.
Damian didn't dodge.
He caught the bullet mid-flight between two fingers.
Batman's eyes widened.
"Impossible."
Damian dropped it at Bruce's feet.
"I'm faster than you think."
Batman's voice