17: The Orphans [1]
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[A/N: Ok, No, I'm not done with the Pàtreon thing. just wanted to give you guys this chapter to let you know I'm coming back soon.]
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I chipped off the wood as I slammed my fist into the dummy. The fabric wrapped around my hand dug deep into the wood, snagging splinters along the way, but I didn't let up; I kept on going.
Sweat streamed down my face as I landed punch after punch. Each hit sent a fiery jolt through the scars I'd earned from Sandra's intense training. My gaze shifted from my target to my arms, wrapped in makeshift bandages, still healing from the multitude of cuts left by Ra's blade.
"Arghh!" I yelled, executing a flashy 360 kick that shattered the dummy into pieces.
As my eyes lingered on the wreckage of the dummy, my thoughts wandered back through the last five months.
After returning from the Seoul trip, I plunged headfirst into training again. Sandra's regimen was merciless, pushing me until she was convinced I could conquer. I had a hunch she wanted me to prove myself on her behalf, and I had my own reasons to clinch victory.
While Ra's continued to emphasize his teachings, he didn't stop at just the vanishing act. Once I had that down, he dived into training me on these ancient martial art techniques that had long been forgotten. It wasn't a walk in the park to pick up these moves, but I tackled it with patience and determination.
Let's be real here, I'm not claiming to be on Richard Dragon's level just because of this. But I'm pretty darn confident that I can handle myself when facing off against the assortment of villains that Batman's rogues' gallery has to offer.
My connection with Talia had been steadily intensifying over the past months, just as I had hoped.
She often dropped by during my training sessions with Sandra, and more often than not, this would lead to clashes between her and Sandra. Sandra believed Talia was a distraction, but I couldn't quite agree.
Between my training sessions, I'd spend a good deal of time with Talia. While we did engage in some intense make-out sessions, things never escalated beyond that point. Though I couldn't help but sense that it was only a matter of time before that changed.
"Bruce." Just as I thought about her, there she was, appearing in the doorway. I turned to face her, and her expression was tense. "It's time."
I nodded, following her lead as we left the room. I unwrapped the bandages from around my hands as I walked, the anticipation in the air palpable. As I stepped outside, the atmosphere seemed to thicken.
My gaze locked onto Ra's, who awaited me with a proud smile. Behind him, Dusan and Sandra stood, the former holding a plate covered with a red silk cloth.
There was an unspoken tension and an intriguing mix of emotions in Talia's eyes as she looked at me—pride, satisfaction, and a hint of worry all intertwined.
As I approached the Demon's head, I felt the weight of the moment settle in.
I paused before Ra's, who stood waiting as I approached. He motioned for Dusan to step forward. In a swift movement, Dusan unveiled a sword with a gold-plated sheath.
The sword had a moon-shaped ornament at the hilt and an accompanying mask next to the blade. It was a near-perfect replica of the Red hood mask, only this one was black with intricate gold detailing.
With the sword in hand, Ra's turned to face me. His unwavering gaze met mine as he handed me the weapon.
"You came here as Bruce Wayne." He declared, his hands reaching for the mask. "You survived the Lazarus trials and were reborn."
He lifted the mask and positioned it over my face. "Now, you fight for the League as the Monarch."
Passing me the mask, I secured it in place with a smile, the sword resting at my waist.
"Your challenge awaits." Ra's stepped aside, gesturing toward the pit—where I had been pushed by Sandra on my first arrival.
I walked up to the pit's edge and halted, glancing back at the assembled onlookers one last time.
Talia's nod and smile reassured me. Ra's remained silent, his confidence about the result of the battle clear. Sandra's expression held its customary grimness, while Dusan's face remained inscrutable.
With a sigh, I leaped into the pit, descending through the tunnel system until I arrived in the arena proper.
My gaze traveled upward to the pinnacle of the pyramid, where a figure stood clad in blue armor. A white cloth mask obscured his face, a sword gripped in his hand.
David Cain. The Orphan.
The arena was brimming with League members, all here to bear witness to the imminent duel.
The League's masters occupied an elevated position. Ra's and Talia occupied a special seating area within the arena itself.
This battle would determine the League's next leader. If I wanted to survive and gain control over the League, I had to win.
All the effort I had invested, the grueling training I had undergone, and the nights of agony I had endured converged into this moment as I ascended the stairs.
Cain twirled his sword as I climbed, his gaze locked onto me. He tensed, muscles coiled, readying himself for combat.
"I never imagined I'd be fighting for leadership against a pampered rich kid." He sneered. He clearly held a low opinion of me, but I couldn't let that bait me. He was not underestimating me, just attempting to provoke a reaction. Well, I could play that game too.
"At least I didn't have to grovel for this position like you did." I retorted, a smirk playing on my lips. His grip on the sword tightened.
"I'll savor watching your life slip away." He muttered.
"Too bad you won't get the chance." I shrugged, refusing to give in.
Drawing the sword from its sheath, I examined the beautifully crafted blade—a double-edged, single-handed weapon with a touch of green amidst the gray metal.
"The League has convened!" One of the masters stepped forward, voice booming. All eyes turned toward them.
"To bear witness to a duel to the death for the League's heir." Another master declared.
"Monarch versus Orphan!"
Attention shifted to Ra's, who stepped forward, his expression neutral. He surveyed us both before raising his hands, signaling the start.
"Let the battle begin!"