Chapter 72: Even If He is a God, I Will Make Him Bleed

"I want to become as strong as you, sir."

Bruce's voice carried sincerity as he said, "I want to save Gotham, Alfred, and my friends."

Peter looked at the boy before him as if seeing him in a new light.

Batman... wants to learn from me?

Suppressing the odd feeling, Peter shook his head. "There's not much I can teach you, Bruce."

"Why not, sir?" Bruce asked, confused.

"Because..."

Peter locked eyes with Bruce's puzzled gaze and said slowly, "I've never been a normal human."

"I'm not a normal human, so I couldn't rely on relentless physical training to forge unyielding willpower. I never had to push through the limits of pain with sheer determination," Peter explained, his self-awareness evident. With his powers granted by the watch, there was little he could impart to someone like Bruce Wayne.

"Because I'm not mortal flesh and blood, I've never needed to push human intelligence or courage to their utmost limits to survive."

Pausing, he continued, "But these are the very qualities you, as an ordinary human, will need most."

"Sir..." Bruce stared at Peter, stunned. "What... what are you, exactly?"

"You'll find out in time." Peter deflected the question and shifted topics. "However, Bruce, I can teach you some things—how to face fear, for instance."

The Next Morning.

In the hotel gym, Peter entered to find Bruce practicing boxing.

Sweat dripping from his face, it was clear Bruce had been training for a while.

"Bruce, let's spar a bit."

Peter grabbed a pair of boxing gloves and gestured for Bruce to face him.

"Sir, do you know how to box?"

"A little. At least I'm not a novice."

Peter invited Bruce to attack first.

Taking a deep breath, Bruce began shifting left and right like a cobra ready to strike.

Thud!

Bruce lunged forward with a sharp step and threw a straight punch.

Peter dodged with ease, catching Bruce's wrist mid-air.

"You're using anger to replace guilt, Bruce, and relying on it to drive yourself forward. But that's not enough."

Effortlessly countering Bruce's move, Peter pushed him back. He could feel the raw force behind Bruce's punch—an attempt to fuel himself with sheer determination.

Unwilling to give up, Bruce panted and launched another attack.

This time, he stepped forward with a left jab. When Peter blocked it, Bruce immediately retracted his left fist and aimed a right hook at him.

Peter caught his fist again.

"Smart, Bruce, but not enough. Don't make your intentions so obvious—learn to conceal them."

Peter released him, signaling for Bruce to keep going.

After a few more rounds, Peter received a call from Martian Manhunter and left the gym, leaving Bruce to continue his training.

Elsewhere in the Gym.

"Are you okay, Azu?" Clark asked, noticing Azu's distracted demeanor.

"I'm fine, it's just..." Azu's hesitated as they walked toward the pool. "I don't know how to describe it. I... I killed someone yesterday, Clark."

"What?"

Clark stopped in his tracks, shocked. "What happened?"

"I don't know. I was following Bruce, and we were ambushed by gunmen. I don't know why they attacked us, but... a stray kid died, and I was furious."

Clark frowned, concerned. "Were you hurt?"

"No," Azu admitted. "Honestly, I wasn't scared. I was just worried... that Dad would be mad at me."

Azu's voice softened. "I'm afraid Dad will think I'm a bad kid. I killed someone, and I made a mess of things. I don't want him to think I'm a killer."

Clark, still reeling from Azu's confession, tried to comfort him. "Don't worry, Azu. You're not a killer. As Popeye would say, 'You are who you are, and that's enough.'"

Azu exhaled deeply, offering a small smile. "Thanks, Clark. And thank Popeye for me, too."

As they approached the pool, they spotted Bruce still practicing boxing.

Azu expression hardened as he strode over.

"Hey, Bruce, care to explain what happened yesterday?" Azu demanded bluntly.

Bruce glanced up at Azu but continued punching the heavy bag. "There's nothing to explain."

"Really? Not even your pathetic, cowardly retreat?"

Azu crossed his arms, glaring. "You left your scrappy friends to fend for themselves."

"I didn't abandon them!"

Bruce stopped mid-punch, his eyes blazing with anger.

"Those guys were after me. The only way to protect them was to leave!"

Azu scoffed. "And yet someone died. Admit it, Bruce—you're not just a rich brat. You're a coward."

"Shut up! I'm not—a coward!"

Bruce yanked off his gloves, his voice trembling with frustration.

Despite being eight or nine years older than Azu, Bruce found himself losing his temper with the audacious boy.

Seeing Bruce's reaction, Azu felt a spark of satisfaction.

"You are a coward—and a liar."

"Shut up!"

Bruce threw one of his gloves at Azu, who caught it effortlessly.

Azu examined the glove, his anger fading as an idea formed.

"Looks like you like boxing. My dad taught me, too. How about this, Bruce? Let's settle this with a match. Prove to me you're not a coward. Do you dare?"

Bruce, unaware of Azu's superhuman nature, stood over the much smaller boy and smirked. "I'll teach you a lesson for Mr. Podrick, kid."

"You can't replace my dad."

As Clark approached, he saw the two squaring off. Concerned, he warned Bruce, "Bruce, maybe you should back down. You can't beat Azu."

Bruce shot a glance at Azu, whose confidence was infuriating.

"It's fine, Clark. He's not a god. And even if he were—" Bruce's voice dropped with determination. "I will still make him bleed."

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