Damian Wayne: Dark Son

More advance chapters on [email protected]/Saintbarbido.

-0-

The room Damian was given in the trainee district was cold, reminding him of the period he spent on the streets after running away from the Orphanage.

At least his current accomodations had stone walls, a thin mattress and a wooden table with a single candle.

It was enough. Comfort bred weakness, and Damian didn't need it.

Strength was all that mattered.

He stood shirtless in the middle of it all, palms clasped, breath steady and body still- a type of perception training where one focused on everything in their vicinity with maximum concentration and no distractions from the body. Hence the stiff posture.

It was the opposite to classic meditation where you focused on the self and ignored the world.

The candle's flame danced, casting long shadows that danced across the walls like restless spirits.

Damian's eyes followed the movement, his mind sharp and focused on the information captured by his enhanced senses. The slight moldy smell, sound of the cold night breeze blowing past his open window, the taste of salt carried in the breeze.

Information was gold.

Damian had learned that early on in life. Knowledge was a tool that could work for or against you. Which is why after the Showcase, he gathered every bit he could on Infinity Island.

According to a few shadows-those who didn't outright hate or fear him- this place was a fortress of secrets, built by the Shadows centuries ago.

It was said that the island itself was alive, its ancient roots feeding on the ambition and blood of those who trained here.

Damian had heard the whispers—how the island's founder, a Demon known only as the First Shadow, had poured its blood into the bones of the earth, spewed it's breath into the air and buried its heart at the center of the Island, binding It to the League's eternal purpose.

Damian didn't believe in legends, but he couldn't deny the strange energy that seemed to pulse beneath his feet, as if the island were watching, waiting.

The fact the Island's energy resonated with the strange red power within him left him curious as to who the First Shadow was. The Island had a library. Tomorrow he would check it out.

Once 10 minutes had passed, Damian exhaled and broke out of the Anti-meditation pose.

He dropped to the floor and began his nightly routine—push-ups, sit-ups, shadow sparring.

Each movement was precise, each repetition a silent declaration. He was still standing. Still fighting.

His body slightly ached from the earlier fight with Cassandra, but he welcomed pain. It was proof of survival.

He replayed the battle in his mind, how she had forced him to adapt, to become unpredictable.

'She's good,' he admitted. But next time, I'll be better.

His fists clenched as he imagined the next encounter, the adjustments he would make, the new techniques he would master.

Infinity Island had a way of sharpening its inhabitants, honing them into weapons.

Damian could feel its influence, the way it seemed to pull at the edges of his mind, urging him to push harder, to go further.

Hours passed. Sweat pooled on the stone floor as he collapsed onto his back, staring at the cracked ceiling, his breath ragged but steady.

The candle's flame was on its last legs, its light dimming as the wax melted away.

Just as he was debating whether to take a bath or sleep where he lay, the door to his room creaked open.

Damian didn't move. His hand drifted instinctively to the knife beside him just in case.

A figure stepped into the dim candlelight—Talia al Ghul. The daughter of Ra's Al Ghul.

She hadn't bothered to knock or even hide her identity.

Damian was never one to stand on ceremony, so his reaction was as blazé as always. He simply didn't care that she was in his quarters uninvited.

Talia wearing a black dress that accentuated her curvy figure, leaned on the door frame and studied him in silence, her gaze sharp and searching.

There was something in her eyes—something he couldn't quite place. Longing? Curiosity? He didn't care. He only respected strength, and while Talia was formidable just by a glance, she hadn't earned his yet.

But there was something else, too—a flicker of recognition, as if she saw something in him that even he couldn't see. It unnerved him, though he wouldn't admit it.

"Who are you?" Talia finally asked, her voice smooth but carrying an edge.

"I'm Damian," he replied flatly, his tone devoid of politeness.

"Just Damian?" she pressed, circling him like a predator while tapping her chin.

Her movements were deliberate, each step calculated, as if she were sizing him up for more than just conversation.

"That's all you need to know princess." Damian grunted.

Her jaw tightened, but she didn't rise to his arrogance.

"There's something familiar about you," she murmured, almost to herself. Her voice was softer now, almost wistful, as if she were recalling a memory she couldn't quite grasp. "This island… it has a way of revealing truths, even to those who try to hide from theirs."

"I don't care." Damian shot back with a yawn. He was leaning more to sleeping than bathing.

Talia stopped in front of him, her piercing gaze cutting through him.

"You should." She paused, then added, "I've seen you fight. You're skilled. But you could be more. Stronger. Faster. Unstoppable. I can make you stronger than Shiva ever could."

Damian gazed up at her with a raised eyebrow, unimpressed. "And why would you do that?"

"Because I have resources. Unlimited resources. I am the daughter of the Demon's Head. Under my guidance, you could become the ultimate Warrior—the strongest there is." She gestured to the walls around them. "This island was built for warriors like you. Its very foundations were laid by the First Shadow, who believes that true power can only be forged in the crucible of Infinity. You feel it, don't you? The way it calls to you?"

Damian scoffed. "And what's in it for you?"

Talia's expression softened, just for a moment. "Call it… curiosity. There's something about you. Something I need to understand."

Her voice trailed off, and for a brief second, her mask of composure slipped, revealing a touch of vulnerability.

'Meant for me to see. How devious.' Talia reminded him of a fusion between the Black Widow and Lady Shiva. Sly yet deadly.

Damian crossed his arms, his knife still in hand. "I'm not interested. I don't need your help."

Talia's eyes narrowed. "Are you worried Shiva will be angry?"

Damian laughed, a sharp, humorless sound. "I'm worried I'd be trading down. Shiva's stronger than you."

For a moment, Talia was silent. Then, her voice low, she said, "If I become stronger than Shiva—if I beat her—will you reconsider?"

That gave him pause. Her eyes revealed she was serious. Damian shrugged. "Suit yourself."

That was a fight he wouldn't mind paying watching.

Talia studied him for a moment longer, her gaze lingering on his white hair and face as if memorizing every inch.

Then, without another word, she turned and left. The door closed behind her, leaving Damian alone with his thoughts.

Why was she so interested in him? And why had she looked at him like that—like she was seeing someone else? He shook his head, pushing the questions aside.

They didn't matter. Only strength mattered.

Later, Damian lay on his thin mattress, eyes closed but senses alert.

The room was silent except for the faint sizzle of burning wax from the now dead candle.

Then a presence entered the room through the open window.

The intruder moved silently, drawing closer until they were beside his bed.

In one swift motion, Damian flipped up, pressing his knife to their throat. It was Hanzo.

"Three seconds to explain yourself." Damian growled, low and dangerous.

"Shiva," Hanzo replied calmly, unbothered by the blade at his neck.

Damian lowered the knife with a scoff. "I'll get my shoes."

The forest beyond the main compound, was alive with the sounds of night.

Damian, hands in his hoodie followed Hanzo through the trees, sneaking past sentries undetected.

Crickets chirped, leaves rustled, and the distant hoot of an owl echoed through the darkness.

Damian's senses were on high alert, his thoughts racing. Whatever Shiva had planned, he knew it wouldn't be normal. Or easy.

She wouldn't summon him at 2 with instructions to meet in the forest, without being caught by the patrolling shadows.

The forest was ancient, with tree roots large as a normal tree trunk, spread out and intertwined, creating a wooden carpet on the ground. It was also gloomy- thick fog swirled around him like invisible phantoms.

Legends spoke of warriors who had vanished into these woods, their spirits bound to the island, forever guarding its secrets.

They soon arrived at a clearing where Shiva stood, arms crossed, her expression unreadable.

In the center was a massive pit, its edges reinforced with blood covered bwooden beams. Inside, a 7 foot brown bear paced, its growls reverberating through the air.

The beast's eyes glinted in the moonlight, its massive frame rippling with raw power.

"Dear student, meet your Entry Exam." Shiva introduced, motioning at the bear.

Damian stopped, eyeing the beast, before turning to his master. He'd thought Shiva was insane, but she was actually Batshit crazy.

"Lemme guess, you expect me to fight that thing." he sighed, holding up the knife. "And probably with just this?"

"Consider it your pen. I expect you to win as well. You've faced worse." Shiva said, her voice calm but carrying a challenge.

"Not unarmed," Damian shot back. "Is this punishment for my 'rude behavior' during the showcase?"

Damian was a battle maniac but that didn't mean he was in the habit of making dumb decisions. And fighting a fucking brown bear with nothing but a knife was at the top of the list.

Maybe if he had better control of his strange abilities- wait. Could that be the reason for all this?

Shiva chuckled at his suspicious expression. "This is an opportunity. There's something within you—an energy similar to chi but different. To understand it, you must be pushed to your limits. Infinity Island has a way of drawing out the truth in those who walk its paths. This is your chance to see what you're truly made of."

Damian's jaw tightened. He could always feel the energy stirring within him, like red-hot steam, building up fast, looking to be unleashed.

"Fine," he said. "But if I die, I'm haunting you."

Without another word, Damian leaped into the pit.