I've been MIA for some time, working on a few P@treon exclusive content. Thanks for your patience. Check it out and gain early and free access to fics like:
-Absolute Thor(Complete)
-Reborn as King Kong(6 chapters)
-Killing Batman(10 chapters)
-Anodite Magic in Percy Jackson.(31 chapters)
-Trigon Unleashed(6 chapters)
-Word Soul: Darkseid Is(6 chapters)
-0-
(Damian's P.O.V)
I never liked show-offs.
Especially the ones who actually had the skill to back it up.
Black Spider stood across from me, twisting his wrists, his fully masked face probably hiding a cocky grin like he thought this fight was already over. A contrast to the cool dark lenses over his eyes.
We both knew, like every other warrior stepping on the battlefield, that this was a fight to the death. Only one of us would be walking out alive.
There was no hatred between us, no enmity, no vendetta- just a mutual dislike and an overwhelming urge to prove one-self better. And nothing beat killing your opponent as the ultimate proof of superiority.
The tension in the air thickened with our equal killing intents. My spine shivered in excitement, thinking about how far this fight would push me.
I didn't dare blink.
On a silent signal, we moved.
He sprinted at me with the speed of a bullet. I mirrored him, discarding all my learned skills in favor of the purely combative moves.
Mid-run, he snapped both hands forward—webs flew past me and anchored into two massive boulders on either side of the clearing. Then he yanked.
The 1+ ton rocks groaned as they came hurtling toward me, a perfect sandwich of death.
I didn't stop.
Instead, I planted my foot, vaulted into the air, and flipped up and over just before they collided behind me with a thunderous crash.
Spider looked up too late.
My shadow came down heel-first, aiming for his skull.
But he was slippery and barely jumped back—but I was ready.
Midair, I flicked a knife from my sleeve. The blade hissed as it sailed through the air and buried into the top of his boot, pinning his foot to the ground.
"Hey!" he barked, wobbling. "You almost cut off my toe!"
I didn't answer, and pulled out my second dagger before lunging low with a slash at his stomach.
The tip of my dagger scraped against his costume, leaving behind a shallow cut, rather than the disembowelment intended.
Of all his abilities, Danger Sense had to be the most annoying.
I rolled under a web roullete of spinning tree trunks and started running across the wall of the cliff, dust in my wake as the improvised propeller carved grooves behind me.
A leap off the edge sent me sailing through the air, slashing apart his webs.
Spider let go of the web roullete to click something on his gauntlet and launch a barrage of web bombs—round, hissing pods of pressurized webbing, all aimed for me midair.
No time to dodge
I let the Ashura flow, erupting off my skin in a red vapor with a deep growl like a storm waking up. The bombs exploded mid-flight, but the crimson mist batted the webbing away, splattering it across tree trunks and rocks.
I landed in a crouch, dagger still in hand.
He tore his pinned boot loose, bits of leather flying.
We clashed again.
My dagger met his web-ropes. Steel hissed against the sticky cords as I slashed and twisted. He spun to my side, flinging one of the ropes into a whip.
It passed within a breath of my eye.
I twisted under it, momentum carrying me into a spinning heel kick.
Miss.
Spider ducked, fast as lightning, and rocketed an uppercut into my ribs.
I brought my forearm down to block.
Mistake.
The impact ripped through my guard like a shockwave. I staggered as the glancing blow clipped my cheekbone, sent my vision swimming for half a second.
With a toothy grin, I refused to let go of his arm and twisted, locking his elbow under mine. Intent was clear—snap the joint, immobilize the limb.
But his strength…
It wasn't normal. His arm flexed like tempered steel. I couldn't even bend it.
Spider grinned in my ear. "You forget I can lift ten tons?"
He looped his free hand around a web already anchored high in the trees—and yanked.
The momentum spun us. I saw what he was doing a heartbeat too late.
My spine met a tree trunk.
Hard.
Pain spiked through me, and I rolled across the ground, coughing red mist into the dirt. My Ashura flared but flickered. My hoodie was half shredded, the red glow dimmed from the slam.
That's when the frustration tried to creep in.
This guy was faster. Stronger. Tougher.
When had I ever been on the defensive like this?
'Need to get your act together.' I thought knelt in the dirt, utilizing a breathing exercise that let the pain settle to a dull ache. Spider danced just outside my range, twirling his webs like a showman at a circus.
"You're fun, demon brat," he called. "But you're still playing checkers in a chess match."
I closed my eyes.
He was right.
Up until now, I had used Ashura the way I always had—like a weapon. I'd used it to hit harder, move faster, take more hits.
But power alone wasn't enough.
Cassandra had shown me that much with her Afterimage. That wasn't just speed—it was a mastery of Chi. There was no other explanation.
And like Chi, Ashura wasn't meant to be a sledgehammer.
It could be so much more.
So I stopped enhancing my limbs. I stopped pushing it into my eyes, my ears.
Instead, I poured everything—every drop of the crimson flame—into my instincts.
Not my mind.
Not my muscles.
Just the raw, unthinking feel of the fight.
I stood up slowly. Calm.
Spider didn't notice the difference.
He fired another web—expecting me to dodge late, as usual.
But I moved before it left the launcher.
"Wait, what?" he muttered.
I ducked under the attack, gliding forward.
Another web flew toward my face—I tilted sideways.
He growled. "Fine. You want it that bad?"
From his gauntlets, a new hiss. Thicker tubes.
Flaming webbing.
Orange liquid spat from his gear, sizzling in the air. "This stuff clings to anything. Melts you like butter. Say hi to Hell for me!"
I didn't open my eyes.
Ashura showed me the attack.
The arc.
The rhythm of his wrists. The clicking gears of his webshooters. The pace of his breath.
All my senses combined with my instinct, giving me a new ability not unlike his own danger sense. This was my Alpha Instinct.
I turned sharply on one foot, the way instinct whispered—and thrust my palms forward.
Ashura exploded.
A focused burst of red vapour compressed to a ring.
Like a coiled spring releasing, the ring blasted from my palms with a boom, colliding with the stream of liquid flame.
His attack recoiled.
Straight back.
Black Spider barely had time to scream as the flaming adhesive hit him square in the chest.
He writhed, trying to pull it off, but it clung, melting armor, skin, everything. He fell, shrieking and rolling, and even through the flame, I heard the sound of a dying animal.
I didn't look away, as Ashura faded to a low rumble in my veins.
"Guess you can shoot something out your ass after all," I muttered. "Too bad it's just screams."
I left him burning.
And I didn't look back.
-
The forest was silent.
Not the silence of peace—but the kind of quiet that warned of something watching. Waiting.
From my elevated position, prone on a stone outcrop close to the outer compound hedge.
I had the perfect view through the scope of the stolen sniper rifle I'd found on Spider. The weapon was solid, the modifications clean. It wasn't mine, but it would do.
I steadied my breathing and focused down the sight.
On the other side of the main compound, Cassandra walked through the trees like a phantom, approaching the walls.
Despite the shadows lying in wait to stop anyone from sneaking into the compound, she remained unbothered. Calm.
She wasn't trying to hide—she didn't need to. Confidence radiated from her like heat. It suited her.
But she wasn't alone.
I turned the dial to focus the scope on two shadows ahead her path.
Hook and Cheshire were already set to spring their ambush. Hook crouched in the thicket, twitching with impatience, his cleaver resting on his shoulder. Cheshire was up in the branches, her body poised like a cat, face covered in that smug white mask of hers.
The two exchanged a glance, waiting for the signal that never came. Because Cassandra didn't pause. She didn't even acknowledge their presence.
Hook made the first mistake.
He lunged, cleaver raised behind her back.
My finger squeezed the trigger.
A shot rang through the jungle.
Hook's body dropped like dead weight, blood misting the air as his skull opened with a clean hole through it. The cleaver clattered to the earth beside him.
Cheshire froze mid-crouch.
For a second, I thought she'd stay and fight. But no—she bolted. Fast. Cutting through branches, sliding between tree trunks, her silhouette darting like lightning.
I followed her with the scope.
One shot could end her.
Two.
Five.
But I didn't pull the trigger—until the sixth.
The bullet hit the dirt inches in front of her, exploding in a puff of dust. She skidded to a halt.
Then slowly, she turned. Arms raised halfway. Her white mask tilted in my general direction.
Crack.
The second bullet clipped the mask at the cheek, shattering porcelain and exposing the side of her face and a single glowing green eye beneath. She flinched. Then growled.
And threw me the finger.
With flair.
I chuckled, letting her go.
Turning back to the scope, I moved it across the trees until I found her again.
Cassandra.
Still walking.
Still… utterly unfazed.
I brought her into focus—and froze.
She had stopped and was looking directly at me.
I blinked.
No one could see that far.
But she was staring through the scope like she knew. Like she'd been waiting for me to look.
On instinct, I squeezed the trigger.
The shot cracked.
And vanished.
No impact.
No reaction.
Just the faintest glint of steel… and then the bullet split in two.
Not shattered—cleaved.
Clean.
Perfect.
Mid-air.
I blinked again. That technique, as fast as the phantom step but flashy. I knew it's name- Laido...it had to be.
By the time I re-centered the scope, she had turned away and continued walking—silent and steady—disappearing between the trees like mist.
I lowered the rifle, exhaling slowly.
It wasn't the fact that she cut a bullet in half.
It was that she knew I would shoot.
And still let it happen.
I couldn't deny it any longer. Cassandra was an Alpha too. And that was a problem.
-
The forest ended at the base of the main stairway which sat in the middle of the league's entire fortress.
I didn't bother sneaking past the shadow squads meant to make the rank up trial challenging.
Swords, katanas, arrows and all manner of weapons failed against Ashura. On the other hand, a single punch was enough to take out any opposition standing in my way.
My mind was focused on the Phantom step which I was beginning to understand, especially with the free training dummies throwing themselves at me.
I climbed the final hundred stretch of ancient, moss-covered steps with a tide of bodies as a welcoming party.
At the very top, perched like a crown, was the castle of the Demon's Head.
The finish line.
The stairway ended in a square shaped platform right in front of the castle's entrance.
The Masters stood on one side in silence, watching a spot to my right.
I felt as she arrived using the second stair way.
Cassandra stopped walking once she arrived at the center of the square. I turned around and we regarded each other.
Her short hair brushed the collar of her dark training gi. She wasn't bleeding. She wasn't limping.
Not a single scratch.
Her eyes trailed over me.
"You reek of blood," she said simply. Not even stuttering over her words. Indeed this was a different Cassie than the one I knew.
I gave her a grin through the ache in my jaw. "I didn't feel like sneaking."
She tilted her head. "Or you couldn't help yourself."
I didn't answer that. We both knew she was right. I was a battle junkie.
A gong sounded out and the time for talk was over. There was a reason why 2 candidates were the finalists. The last section of the rank up was a duel, witnessed by all the masters to ensure fairness.
We began circling.
Two wolves beneath a storm.
"I'm close, you know." I said, quiet but clear.
She narrowed her eyes slightly. "To what?"
"The Phantom Step." I flexed my fingers, rolling a slight ache out of my knuckles. "I've broken down the body mechanics, the rhythm, the energy output. The explosive release—half the technique is rooted in suppression."
Cassandra didn't speak.
I stepped to the left.
She mirrored.
"All I'm missing is the final piece," I said. "The real-time transition. The moment you vanish… and reappear. I've tried to replicate it, but I'm still chasing it."
She stopped moving. So did I.
"I think it'll come down to one thing," I said. "If you can cut me down before I grasp the final piece… or if I steal your skill and beat you with it."
Cassandra's hand moved slowly to her side.
The sound of her blade sliding free was quiet. Almost reverent.
She held it down at her side in a reverse grip. The tip just barely kissed the ground.
"We can find out," she said, her voice steady with a dangerous smile.
My heart rate slowed.
No fear.
No hate.
Just instinct and purpose.
I slid my right foot back and raised my guard, adjusting the hilt of my twin daggers in my hand.
Ashura flickered to life beneath my skin, whispering through my bones.
The master's gazes, Talias and Shivas especially pierced holes through us, but we ignored it all.
This wasn't about them, the castle or even the competition anymore.
This was about Alphas.