Disclaimer: all characters and mentioned universes belong to their respective owners and/or creators.

This is a work of fiction.

'Italics means he is talking to himself /inner voice'

"inverted commas" means a normal conversation.

THE ONE WHO TAMES

Fear. It's a powerful weapon. In here they show you true fear, the one that draws primal responses from your literal soul. The hands keep trying to drag you down, the terrain rejects you. You have no option but to succumb, but I haven't. I've been at this, crawling for a while now. Crawling my way from these hands. There is no such thing as fearless, maybe there is but it's not what I am. No, I overcome my fears, I understand that I have them and then I face them. I persevered through unimaginable fears, I trudged through unthinkable resistance. But these hands keep trying to force me to the light. Not a single moment of respite, not one bit of rest. Every moment since reaching this purgatory has been about me avoiding the light. It's cliche isn't it? The light at the end of the tunnel and all that. But even cliches started from somewhere. I was going against nature, I was going against the established laws. I was doing what no living being was supposed to, I went against my fate after death. I died, that's obvious if you've been listening. Why else do you think these hands have been dragging me to the light. Maybe there aren't even hands, maybe this is just how my mind interprets it. Will this be a never ending cycle of me moving against it, and it trying to draw me back. Never once have I gone past five steps. It's always at step five when the hands drag me back, when this field of resistance appears before me slowing me down. It's silent here, no sounds, no voices. Just me, the hands and my defeated fears. In this solidarity I have learned a lot about myself. In this silence I have forged my spirit through the hammer of my adversities. How long has it been? Time doesn't matter here, I try not to think about it. It weakens my will by filling me with self doubting thoughts. All I know is that I don't want to go to the light. I know, it's unreasonable. Who am I to go against the laws? What do I think of myself to not conform to the will of the light? I'm just a persistent ant. I don't matter, no one will ever know if I walk into the light or if I don't. I'm doing this for me. If others cared so much then why don't they join me here. I am just a man going against a mighty wave that keeps pushing me back. The gods must be laughing at me. You don't get to see all these mystical things and not believe in the supernatural. Sometimes I see a cloaked figure silently observe me. It just stands there, doesn't speak doesn't move and then it disappears. But neither do I speak. Words haven't left my mouth since the first moments I landed here. How did I land here? I died. How? That doesn't matter. It's useless to think of it now, when I don't have the time for my thoughts to wander. The moment I let my guard down, the very moment I lose this tension, is the moment I succumb. My mind was as focused as sun rays through a lens. That was something I tempered myself using the resistance of this purgatory. I wasn't born with an indomitable will, I wasn't born with the power to go against this situation. I acquired it by refusing to surrender. I wasn't special in any single way, I just refused to admit defeat, to quit. Because once I do, I would be tossed through the light.

This time was like any other. Me going against the hands and the waves of pressure, the hands trying to bring me to the light. But the hooded figure appeared at the far front of the passage and with it a door opened and a soul came through. For the first time, I saw the hooded figure point to the light behind me. The soul looked at the light and began walking towards it. And it came closer, it was the ghost like figure of a naked child. It glanced at me and nodded, then focused on its path on, it had an expression of nirvana as it walked through the light.

The hooded figure still stood by the door that was beginning to slowly close. It observed me, or was trying to give me a hint –which I didn't miss. I crawled up to my feet and walked towards the door and the moment I took five steps the resistance came and the hands appeared. The door was fifty steps from me, and it was closing. Common sense dictated that I give up, the laws told me to abandon all foolish hopes I had gathered. I would never succeed whispered my situation. But I walked, one foot in front of the other I walked and walked and walked. The hands aggressively pulled! The pressure built up to un-withstandable degrees. The terrain turned treacherous. But I walked, doing the only thing my focused mind directed me to. I was a single step from crossing the closing door. The hooded figure turned its head to look at me. All the fears I had ever faced appeared before me, the pressure drove me to my knees, the innumerable hands held me down. The door before me was rapidly closing, no matter what I tried I couldn't stand. I couldn't move. I saw salvation for the very first time, would I just let it slip away? NO, I WILL NOT. Strength filled me and I rose, like a chick breaking out from an egg – all the shackles fell off from me, I took a step forward. I sensed a smile from the hooded figure the moment before I entered the door. The door led me to a swirling tunnel of concepts at lightspeed, my mind couldn't register the things I saw for they had no definition.

I fell, memories flashed past my eyes as I fell through a never ending space. In a blink I was here, this was different. This purgatory wasn't the same one I had been to or come from.

A set of dark-red, spiral like tattoos covered the left side of my torso all the way down to my arm. Dressed in red, as thick as blood, was a man holding a mighty sword, he stood facing me. Anger as hot as the fires burning around us, was written on his face.

"You desecrate the natural order"His voice, sharp as the blade he held. He took a stance. The air turning heavy with tension.

I had the feeling, if I lost here I would truly cease to exist, simple as that.

He swings. Instincts kick in and I bend. The sword zooms past. I jump back putting distance between us. My mind races trying to find answers, I push the questions back and focus.

He comes in with a downward strike too fast for me to respond to. Arms raised trying to guard myself, clink, the sound of metals colliding as a sword appears in my grasp. Too focused to be surprised but I am jolted. He looks at me like prey, but I don't want to die. The only thing keeping me up is my will to live and my instincts.

Sparks fly as metals collide, the dance of death between us continues. The use of the weapon coming to me naturally, like a well honed skill, a mastered moveset. I let the instincts guide my move. The man's face turns fierce his strikes get harder, he gets faster, his sword becomes invisible. I feel a cold itch across my chest and jump back. My skin parts as blood flows through the deep cut.

Pain was killed off and its elder, meaner brother took over my body. Suffering past anything I had ever felt, my bones were burning with flames from hell, my organs felt dead. My blank mind was flooded with excruciating pain, my wailing body tortured past its limits. My very soul felt the indescribable agony that had me almost paralysed. The anguish from his strike was unimaginable.

He doesn't allow me respite, he lands over cuts on me, shallower this time for I begin to adapt to his pace, his speed. I move faster than I can think, I let my body act, my mind gains the space to think of other things, tactics. He slashes at my unguarded neck, I deflect the blade and pull it with my naked hand, the pain none lesser that what I had felt. He's surprised, I stabbed through his sword arm and pull out a mass of flesh. He closes his eyes as I spit blood at them, my sword is held in a backhand grip, allowing me a stab to his exposed temple. Blood doesn't flow out of his wounds but he drops. And in another blink the scene changes. But I heard a voice, I knew now what happened. I was marked for death, the tattoos would never leave me till the day I truly die and my soul is claimed. The man was,

Azrael–the angel of death. He will come after me till I die, he will make sure the natural order is maintained. Well, he will fail.

I was feeling again. I regained natural senses. The ones that came with a living breathing body.

I was nearly driven to tears as I felt my air deprived lungs scream out in protest.

I was submerged in a liquid of some sort and I was drowning in it. But something else was in this liquid. An energy that kept flowing, no, rushing into me. It was relentless and aggravating. I felt it's power nurture my tired soul and body, but it was driving me blanc, and I was still drowning.

"Arghh!" I screamed, bursting through the surface of the liquid. My sight turned white. My body felt like it was on fire, and the liquid was feeding that fire, making it burn brighter. Making me scream louder.

I began to run, I didn't know where to. But I wanted to leave this fire. I couldn't see where I was running to. But I could feel the flames subsiding with each step.

And when it did, the piled up exhaustion set in, like a sword going through a twig, I was utterly defeated, and on my knees greedily sucking in air. Just before I blacked out.

…

I was laid on a soft hospital like bed. IVs and drips stuck to me skin. Monitors watching and observing my situation were spread out through the well decorated and brightly lit room. My eyes were clear, I was quiet because I've been trying to make sense of the revelations I came to. This body was that of a young child's, a six year old boy's to be specific. And the woman standing next to me, was his mother. Her name, Talia al Ghul. I know, it sounded like the name of a character from fiction. But from the fractured memories I gained, fiction was the reality. This world was one of magical beings and flying men. This world was one where the dead resurrected from bathing in magical waters as was my case. And my home was now a place called the League of Assassins.

I wasn't livid, I was shocked dumb. The joy from being alive was the one thing holding me together. I had no reason to scream or panic, I wound gain nothing from such acts. After all the time I spent clawing my way from purgatory, fighting an angel of death and getting a body. I was quite satisfied with my current situation of once again being alive.

I felt the warmth of fingers, smoothly tracing the dark-red, spiral tattoos that covered the left side of my chest, forming a sleeve as it went all the way to wrist of my left arm – the mark of death. It followed me from the battlefield where I won my life to reality.

"Truly fascinating marks" She commented.

"The pit restored you to the best of its capabilities. Be proud to have cheated death, my little one." she brought her hand to rest on my head.

"Although you may have failed the test, you'll just have to make up for that my precious, won't you?" She said with a loving smile. A smile, owners had when they look at their favorite toys, or maybe she really does care. I can't fully tell, but I'm not optimistic.

"I will indeed…mother" I replied. Damian always referred to her as mother.

The test she was referring to was one where the previous occupant of this body was to scale a mountain with his bare hands. He slipped, the blood from his torn fingers caused him to lose his grip. And he fell from a height of 355 feet, he didn't survive from. He was also impaled by jagged rocks that littered the base of the mountain. And he died with a smile. He was happy to be free of all the chains on him. He was just still a child, no matter how they forced his mind to mature, he was just a child.

The boy had gone through too much torture in the name of training. It had significantly altered his psych, all to gain the validation from his mother and to learn of his father. She promised him the name of his father should he complete all the 'tests' necessary to mould him into a new world ruler.

What I saw, was a woman making a child soldier in the image of batman. I had read works of fictions, who hasn't? Comics were one of my favorites, and Damian's origins was one of the many parts of the batman storyline I read of. He, no, I, was born when Talia al Ghul seduced batman. In some books drugs were involved and in others it was batman giving in to passion.

Damian was genetically perfected and grown in an artificial womb, he was created to be the perfect warrior king, trained from the moment he began to walk, meant to kill and replace the bat. And to become the inheritor to Ra's al Ghul's legacy. This was a child, created to be human perfection personified. But we all know how that went. And I was now in his body, I will never be able to have a peaceful life. Even if I escaped from the league of assassins, Ra's will never let me go. And then there was batman's side of things. Oh, to top it off was the mark on me. It would always draw death towards me, it's the price for my freedom. So to sum it up, I was quite fucked.

The vibrant rays of sunlight shot through the sparse balls of clouds. The songs of birds and cries of insects were in harmony with the fresh morning breeze.

I was dressed in simple athletic shorts and a gym shirt. It's been two days since the rebirth. And today I would have to scale the mountain again.

"Remember, Damian. It's all in the mind, belive it and you can achieve it.

Failure is unacceptable, if you fall again you will truly stay dead." she tapped my head and then turned around to leave.

"You have 12 hours" she added.

I stood at the base of the rocky mountain and raised my head to catch a glimpse of its sharp summit, covered in a thin layer of fog. This seemed stupidly unbelievable, this was absolute madness. I didn't have any sense telling me I could do it. All I knew was that I had to do it. There was no other option. The weak are culled here in the league of assassins. There is no place for weakness. If I didn't do this, I would end up dead. There was no deus ex machina to give me strength. All I could bank on was the enhanced physiology of this body, and my increased life force that provided me with greater stamina.

Well, this mountain wasn't going to climb itself.

I stuck my hands into the natural grooves and crevices of the steep rock face and began my ascend. You'd notice that I had no tools on me, I was bare handed and without any other apparatus but the clothes on my back.

Inch by inch, step by step, I slowly ascended. When it was midday, I knew six hours had passed. The intense rays of the sun caused my body to sweat more than appreciated, and made the rockface a scalding hot platform. The strain of supporting my body was relieved by periodic breaks I would take to get blood flowing back to my burning limbs.

My nails were cracked and my fingers burned as did my toes. I had to watch my breath, and keep it in constant rhythm. The oxygen was getting thinner. And then there was also the loose rocks, the death traps that would come off when used as a handhold.

….

Did you know, your limbs could become so exhausted that you barely felt them anymore. I just did. And the wind slapping against me didn't make this climb any easier. I don't know why, but slippery moss covered the higher terrain of the rockface. And it burned when it came in contact with the raw flesh of my injured fingers. But the moss contained fluids that provided the water I so desperately needed. I would scrape up as much as I could using only my mouth and squeeze the bitter, sandy liquid out of the moss mass using my tongue against the roof of my mouth. And spat out the drained plants. I kept this cycle up till my thirst reached a manageable degree, when I say manageable I mean when the burn and dryness at the back of my throat didn't feel like hard sandpaper anymore. It now felt like soft sandpaper scraping against it. Giving me a soft but irritating itching sensation.

The sun was setting, the environment was getting darker and colder. The thin clothes couldn't protect me from the natural elements.

Evening was about to take over the atmosphere. I probably didn't have much time left.

I was an arms length away from the summit. I could see my final destination, the goal of my climb. The apex of the mountain. I wanted to relax, but I knew that that was the most suicidal thing I could do. The moment I relax and lose the tension when my goal was so close to me, I would, without doubt, fall.

But to reach the summit I would have to jump. The rock face was deliberately smoothened out. There were no crevices, no grooves, no handholds. Not even moss or grass. It was bare and smooth. My shoulders were shaking as were my legs. My back felt dead now. The punishment my body was withstanding was one it shouldn't have to at such an age.

I would have to jump and grab onto the edge of the platform. If I was taller, or larger then it could have been easier but this was the body of a small child. The jump I had to perform was taller than my height, and the cliff face was very vertical. I slowly and steadily took off my shirt, the cold winds caressing my skin causing me to shiver.

Positioning myself for the jump that would decide my fate, I took a deep breathe and steeled myself.

"Ragh!" I shouted and lunged. Everything was going slower as my perception became sharper. I whipped the shirt held securely in my hands onto the cliff edge. Directly on the steepest part of the edge. I felt weightless for a moment before a pull held my body in place. The shirt was lodged on the protruding part of the platform. Which was conveniently beginning to crack, it couldn't support my weight. It was breaking, rapidly. With every bit of strength I could muster, I pulled! Altering my center of gravity by tucking in and flipping over, making use of my body's sense of balance and acrobatic prowess. I smashed face first into the rocky surface of the platform, my arms were too dead to break my fall. I hungrily stuffed my lungs with air, ignoring my bruised forehead and bleeding nose. Adrenaline in my system wearing off and the consequences of my actions, slamming into me like a speeding truck.

An elderly man with a tall, straight stature and sharp brows approached my fallen form. His every move was refined and regal. His gait orderly and his arms held behind his back, he observed me. I felt bare as his sharp gaze roamed over my tired, bruised and cold body.

"Well done. Damian, as expected of one who shares of my lineage" he spoke boldly.

"Thank you Grandfather." I said keeping my almost cracking voice monotone and stable.

He turned around and gestured for me to follow him.

/X/

"There is only one way to rule the world, and that way is to understand and master the many facets of arts in life. I expect nothing less than complete mastery, Damian. For you will come to realize, there is nothing impossible to achieve when the mind and body work in harmony."

Those were the words of Ra's al Ghul, still lingering in my mind. Because you see when he said that, my real training began.

Fighting vicious beasts in their own jungle habitats with nothing but bare sticks. Going shark hunting without breathing gear, and killing a great white with a knife.

Mastering various musical instruments and artistic expressions on paper using blood. Getting various academic accomplishments.

I should say this now, I was never a genius. In all the two lives I had lived, I was never a genius. All I accomplished was through putting my nose to the grind. But learning now, was easier than it had ever been. It might be because of the malleability of a child's brain, the increased life force and my actual mental maturity, or the work of my excellent teachers.

Of course all of my teachers concerning most of the arts and sciences were kidnapped prominent men and women. I could never bond with them, when they were always shaking and on the verge of tears when not busy teaching me.

All for this moment. four years of constant unrelenting torture, four years of nearly going mad, I was not the same person I once was. After going through all that, you never come out the same. It turns you into a sociopath with no regard for human life.

I don't know if the original Damian had gone through what I had. Ra's was very interested in me, he said I was le chosen one heh. Because of the marks I had on me, and he upped the training each time, and each time he did, I would succeed and pass said training. Death was a very good motivator, I didn't want to meet her so soon. The increased life force in me helped with my survivability, it wasn't extraordinary, but it was above the human average.

And on every eve of my birthday, I would proceed to run through a convoluted obstacle course and fight my mother, who would continue to kick my ass blue and to the ground, but it was better than sparring with Ra's, that man had no mercy. But even I could tell of the results of my training, I was improving, rapidly so, becoming the perfect killing machine.

I was in a full body black combat suit with white highlights, red torso and knee paddings, flexible gauntlets with spiked knuckle dusters. A slim parachute pack hung over my back and clear round goggles protected my eyes. I stared at the icey white landscape through the open doors of the jump plane. The sound of the wind deafeningly loud as the aircraft cut through the air at 12,000 ft above ground level.

I took a deep breath and monitored my heart beat, adrenalin pumping in my veins. With a step, I fell out the door.

When you're falling at terminal velocity, it feels like time comes to a stop as you cut through cold currents of air and clouds.

Above me, dots of black begin to appear. I glide left and right, dodging the whizzing bullets. It reminded me of the lessons.

*FLASHBACK*

The day after I climbed the mountain, I stood in a spacious training hall. I was armed with a single sword and a black training suit.

"Today, my darling son, you will learn to avoid and deflect bullets" Talia said with a smile. At the end of her words, men in training suits but with masks came through the doors with automatic rifles held in their grips.

"Woman are you insane? Are you trying to kill me?" I couldn't hold my tongue, I know I shouldn't have questioned her, but how the hell was I supposed to dodge and/or deflect bullets without any prior 'bullet dodging' training. I just climbed a mountain for goodness sake, I deserved rest.

"My dear, if you can't survive this then you don't deserve to be the successor. Nothing is impossible my child, and you will soon find out. Show me you have the strength, the willpower to do what is necessary"

I watched as gun nozzles sparked and I ran, I should have paid more attention because I ran right into a bullet that tore through my shoulder. It felt cold at first as the bullet pierced through my flesh, then came the searing heat and suffering. A warm stream of blood began to flow down my arm. This was the first time I've ever been shot. In both of my existences. It's nothing like the movies.

"Watch the nozzles Damian, see their trajectories. Put your math to use and run the calculations. Don't just react in panic, calm down and think. Let the mind and body work in tandem" she guided me. And I listened.

I dodged, I rolled and I turned with sharp movements, and when a bullet from a nozzle positioned with a telegraphed trajectory to hit my head, flew at me. My hand moved as fast as it could, I felt the world slow down as my perception once again increased, my hand was moving at a snail's pace and the bullet was meters away from me. With my hand in the right place, I positioned the blade to a tilt.

Clang! The sword vibrated as the bullet clashed against it, altering its path of travel. I felt it cut through strands of my hair as it traveled inches above my head. Cold sweat soaked the back of my shirt. My breath sharp and fast, my body shaking from the adrenaline coursing through me and the feeling that comes as a result of escaping the cold hands of death and blood loss.

"Good, you truly are his son. You make me proud my child." she sounded pleased, and relieved(?) "Get ready, Damian. We go again"

*FLASHBACK ENDS*

I unholsetered the semi's strapped to thighs. With my fingers on the trigger, I turned around, opening my form, and let the air resistance cushion me.

BRRATTA! BRRATTA!

BRRATTA! BRRATTA!

BRRATTA! BRRATTA!

The recoil of the guns minimized by my posture, but the kickback still gave me this buzzing like sensation in my arms.

I watched as the bullets tore through foot ninjas, blood mists formed.

BRRATTA! BRRATTA!

BRRATTA! BRRATTA!

BRRATTA! BRRATTA!

Click click

They learned their lessons and separated, but they might have been underestimating my aim. I mowed them down to a half of their original numbers. I felt no remorse, it's either kill or be killed. The only time I felt remorse was the time it also died, and that was when I killed Jack.

I threw the now empty guns and went in for a close combat.

I glided towards the one closest to me and pushed his arm that held the sword to the side, disrupting his swing.

Squishkk the short blade in my grasp went through the ninjas eye and lodged in his skull. Five others began to converge on me. I pulled the chute trigger of the one I stabbed in the eye. The now arriving five were trapped by the chute fabric like fishes in a net.

With swords now in my hands, I fought an air battle with the ninjas.

Slice— Metal met fleshly resistance, metal won and flesh gave way. Body parts came off, blood is sprayed. Limbs and organs paint the air, Heads fly, they are liberated off of bodies. I feel I'm in my domain, my instincts allowing me to meld all extraordinary senses seamlessly together with my actions. Every move of mine is precise and accurate — every slash spells death, every stab is mortal. I am ruthless, I am merciless, they cease movement and weakly flop in the air—dead.

I keep telling myself that I do all this just to survive, but my heart beats faster than it ever has. I felt alive in this battle, I am born again of blood. I am remade anew. This is who I truly am, I am a survivor who makes it to the end. A warrior king who thrives in battle. In this moment I am unstoppable. As simple as that.

I pull my chute trigger.

SWOomp! The force of wind pulls me up, forcefully decreasing my inertia. I gradually descended. I pulled the pack off of my back, 16 feet in the air and land in roll, the thick snow carpet further cushioning my fall.

Four last ninjas also descend. I threw the sword through the neck of the first one to land. The other three draw their weapons and attack.

I parry the first two, and roll again to dodge the third. I swipe the blade low delegging the third and stab him through the head in a swift motion. The remaining two rush at me, I kick snow up at their eyes, they blink. And when they realize their mistake, "Urgh!" "Arghh!" they have swords through their chests.

I began to jog to my destination, keeping my senses open and active.

The distinct crunch of show was different from the rest. I could attribute it to the landscape, but I knew better than that. Slowly brushing the top layer of snow off, I could see the circular pressure triggered explosive. This was now a minefield trap.

The only light I had was the one from the moon, I had to make more use of my auditory senses here than sight.

There was no need to rush. But nothing would be that easy when it came to league.

Vrrrrmm!

The sounds of engines were nearing my location. They should be light machines judging by the terrain and sound of their engines.

I began setting up a trap. And waited.

When they approached close enough I could make out six snowmobiles, two ninjas boarded on each. All of them carrying swords, except the drivers. They probably had maps on the location of the mines.

BOOM!

The first two snowmobiles in the lead went up in flames. I had rearranged the mines I could lay my hands on. It was always beyond terrifying. But I had been trained for such scenarios.

The impact force from the explosion caused a third to veer from its path and right into another mine.

BOOM!

The three snow mobiles fanned out, moving through the snow in specific patterns and paths as to not trigger any mines.

I watched my steps, claiming my heartbeat and thinking about the next placement of each and every step. Emulating the movement pattern of the snow mobiles.

The machines roared and sped at me.

The fastest was focused on me, for a collision course. I stopped running and took a hard bank to the left, avoiding a sword swipe.

That put me directly on to the path of another mobile speeding at me. I put strength into my legs and flipped forward.

Slashing my sword down with added momentum, through the driver's head, who was busy staring at my suspended form.

The bike flipped over on its side, sliding on the icy landscape until it came to stop.

BOOM! Right on a landmine.

The two others slid around to a stop. Headlights on me, both began revving their engines.

Vrrrm! Vrrr Mmm!

I pointed my sword and assumed an attack posture. I focused. My grip on my sword tightened. My eyes adjusted, my breathing calmed.

They surged at me, kicking up a cloud of snow behind them. My feet moved and I dashed towards them.

I drew back my sword, my muscles went taut, I aimed, exhaled and threw the sword.

Shuunck The flying piece of metal pierced through the neck of the driver and halfway through that of the passenger.

I slid through the snow with my knees bent forward and my upper body the opposite direction, fully evading a sword strike aimed at my midsection. I dug my fingers into the snow, slowing my momentum and jumped backwards. Meters away from a buried mine.

The snowmobile skid to a sharp stop and curved around to face me. The drivers eyes widened in surprise, the hard spiked soles of my boot met his masked face. Both fell off the impact and inertia. The bike drifting off into the distance.

I watched my steps, and quickly closed in on the driver.

Crunch! My fingers bent to a half fist, struck the defenseless neck of the fallen ninja crushing his windpipe. His mangled face twisting in pain as he coughed up blood, mucus and his life.

The other came in with a downward swing. I sidestepped. Grabbed and pulled his arm. Tugging him forward, his nose bridge collapsed when in came into contact with my forehead. He reel in pain.

Crack My knee viciously fell on the elbow of his grabbed arm, bending it backwards. The sword fell. I held his head in place and twisted.

Crackk it hung limply to the side, his beating heart slowing to a crawl. I dropped his body and grabbed his sword.

I stared at the last survivor, the one stabbed halfway through the neck. My balde came down, his heart stopped. I flicked the blood off.

Grabbing another sword, I holstered both blades and climbed the snowmobile.

/X/

The headless body fell to the floor. Blood pooling around it. Joining the rest of bodies that littered the corridor. That was the last of zealots. I kicked open the wooden doors and stepped forward.

I walked atop stone steps and climbed a circular platform.

Talia stood a distance away facing me.

"You have learned much son, more than your grandfather and I thought possible at so young an age" she smiled.

"I learned from the best mother. But today, mother, today I will defeat you" I took off the goggles. Moved my tense neck side to side.

"My love. Such words of confidence, show me the Strength behind them" she drew out a single sword. As did I.

"HAI!" we rushed at each other. Clang! A too familiar song of metal rang through the hall.

Clank! Clang! Clang!

We danced to the rhythm of our blades.

Sweat rolled. Breaths turned foggy. Seconds turned to minutes, minutes to hours. Our endurance was put to the test. Our resolves brought to bare.

She stabbed and she struck, she was merciless. Cuts accumulated on my body.

And I gave back as much as I received.

She had the advantage of height, I had the advantage of speed.

Thud! My jaw stung, salty cobalt filled my mouth. Whoosh I shot my head back inches away from a lashed boot strike.

Clang! I parried a straight stab. My heels swept at her feet. She jumped. Transitioning to a handstand, I sprang off the floor like a loaded spring, both feet digging into her abdomen.

"Oohff!" She exhaled and in a fluid motion, utilized the momentum to perform a backflip while airborne, widening the distance between us.

I couldn't let her breathe. I dashed at her, her hands flickered. I waved my sword clank! Shurikens embedded themselves into the walls. She gained valuable seconds of recovery.

Clang! I parried. "uh!" a hidden blade dug through the flesh of my side.

She smiled, clang! I struck. "Ptui"I spat at her eyes. She jumped back. The trick failed.

"You're making me proud Damian."

The sword was held in a backhand grasp. I swung. She blocked it. The hidden blade appeared again. My left hand shot out. The cold blade parted the flesh of my open palm. I gripped her fist and pulled. She unhanded the hidden blade and drew back her hand. Escaping my pull, my backhand swung again. She parried.

The sword flew through the air, I had released it. I went under her overshot parry. I stabbed deeply into the muscles of her thigh with the blade still lodged in my palm. She limped, I shot accurate punches at her open abdomen. "Ugh!" She grunted in pain. Her sword arm shot down, I tucked into her personal space. My hands gripping the thumb of her sword hand. I pulled, the sword dropped. And so did fist strikes to my face with the force of a hammer. The left side of my face swelled up. My hands wrapped around hers and my feet around her neck in a triangle hold. I flipped us both over, slamming into the hard floor. I applied more pressure. Her eyes watered.

She whipped back her free arm and clawed at my face. She then struck my kidneys with body shots that drove the air out of me. She tucked her knees under her and pushed herself off the ground. I was still applying the hold. I knew she was going to slam me down. I punched at her temple over and over. Her eyes sharpened.

"Ha!" She exhaled and swiftly raised her upper body high and prepared to drop me hard. I loosened my legs and shifted my weight, and turned to wrap them around her back. This was the advantage of a featherweight like mine. I could easily transition. She anticipated it. Her hands latched on my head and shoulders and she pulled! I was momentarily suspended before my back slammed hard into the platform. "Cough!" 'Hello ground, meet lungs'

I endured and rolled evading a hard stomp aimed at my stomach. Doing my best to breathe. I whipped a kick at her injured thigh. "Ugh" my kick hit the exact spot I had stabbed her at. She involuntarily fell to on a knee.

She snapped her head to the side, a sword was pointed at her neck.

"Happy birthday Damian. You win" even in torn up clothes and bleeding she had a beautiful smile.

"I know, mother." I stated simply. I wasn't any better than she was. The left side of my vision was darkening due to swollen eyes.

"You truly make me proud my love. You are great my child, nothing less or short of it" she said with a proud tone.

I couldn't help but smile, a warm fuzzy feeling brewed when she said that.

Who doesn't like a compliment? Especially one from their parents, even if those parents were stone cold assassins.

"Of course I am" I replied. Look, I deserve the damn arrogance I said that with. I am that confident.

"You have succeeded in all your trails, Damian. We shall meet your grandfather for your ceremony. A new age has come. People will see your greatness, you will be a giant amongst men my love. It's your destiny to rule" she stared into my eyes and she spoke each word with 100% belief in them. Oh my.

*BOOM! HAHA. Insane innit? Well ladies and gents there you have it. This story right here is crazy. I actually left secret hints in other stories about it. How many of you found it? No worries.

I hope you all enjoyed it as much as I did.

I'll post chapters soon for all my other stories. The man has been busy is all, I have not abandoned them.

Hit that like, fave and follow switch to show some love (and support the story. While motivating me *wink wink*)

I hope you all have a spectacular weekend.

Till we meet again.

Hero out~

VICTORY!*