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The Grand Hall of Infinity Island hummed with tension.
All Shadows were gathered—ranked elites, assassins, initiates, even wandering masters—lined up in neat, disciplined rows.
Their black uniforms absorbed the dancing lantern light, the only real sound in the hall being the soft hiss of flames and the murmured breath of warriors awaiting announcement.
Near the front stood Damian.
Tall. Calm. And bored.
He stood beside Talia, arms folded, not in reverence like the others—but in quiet challenge.
His presence, now nearly mythic among the newer recruits, stirred murmurs even among the veteran assassins.
He wasn't just Talia's student anymore. He was the League's wildcard. The prodigy who had risen too fast, too strong.
The massive iron doors creaked open, and Ra's al Ghul stepped into the hall, robed in ceremonial black and green, his aura unmistakable.
Every Shadow, from the youngest acolyte to Deathstroke who leaned lazily against the exit wall, dropped to one knee.
All except Damian.
He didn't move. Didn't flinch. He simply smirked.
Ra's al Ghul walked in, his steps silent yet purposeful whilst scanning the hall.
He stopped right before the stairs leading onto the stage. Right in front of his daughter and her student.
Ra's green eyes landed on Damian.
Tension snapped through the room like drawn steel.
Even Deathstroke raised an eyebrow in amusement. From the massive hanging lanterns above, a crouching Cheshire purred out a low, approving laugh, her eyes gleaming like a cat toying with prey.
Sensei, standing behind Ra's, frowned so hard the wrinkles on his face deepened into crevices.
'This stubborn boy.' Talia sighed without looking up, her hands clenched behind her back.
"Is there something wrong with your knees, boy?" Ra's asked coldly.
Damian tilted his head slightly, smirk never wavering. "They're working just fine," he said. "But I only kneel to the battlefield."
Sensei's nostrils flared. His hand rose, fingers twitching to unleash punishment.
But Ra's raised his own hand slightly, stilling the old master.
Then came Damian's voice, dripping with arrogance and wrapped in icy confidence. "Fight me."
Ra's blinked.
The silence fell so thick that the wind outside could be heard.
"You think because my daughter chose to take a cursed child under her wing… that makes you worthy to demand anything of me?" Ra's asked curtly, throwing a look of disgust at Damian's white hair.
"Don't know what my hair color has to do with anything, old man." Damian said with a shrug, elliciting a wave of gasps for his audacity. "But if it'll get me a fight with you, then sure. Let's call it Cursed."
"You little brat..."Sensei's voice trembled with the kind of restrained rage that promised blood.
But Ra's was watching Damian closely now. His gaze had shifted—not of a man insulted, but a man intrigued. Like a scholar studying something new. Dangerous.
Damian didn't flinch.
Didn't blink.
Not even as more shadows began to emerge from the sides of the hall in response to a signal from Sensei, silent blades in hand, circling in preparation to strike him down.
And still—he stood upright, arms folded.
Talia glanced at her student, then at her father. "Father, please—"
Ra's raised a hand again, silencing her.
His eyes narrowed.
This boy—he wasn't bluffing. He wasn't posturing. The defiance in him wasn't just youthful pride.
He wasn't afraid to die.
Ra's saw it now. The look in Damian's eyes. That same unwavering focus. That same cold fire.
Bruce Wayne had become fear.
But this strange cursed boy…
Damian devoured fear.
He wore conviction like armor and spoke with the casual dominance of someone who expected the world to obey.
Alpha.
But even so, no one had ever disrespected the Demon's Head over the centuries Ra's lived and got off unpunished. An example had to be made. That said, while he could wave a hand and have the boy executed, not only would it earn him his daughter's ire but the League would lose a promising talent.
Ra's Al Ghul, a man known for his decisive nature was at a loss.
Just then, the great doors of the hall burst open. A blur of silver light shot through the air—a Katana sword—spinning straight at Damian's forehead.
The red glow of Damian's Ashura flared to life in his palm as he casually raised a hand and caught the blade between his fingers.
He turned his gaze to the source, eyes still calm.
"So much for knocking, huh Sifū?" he said.
His former teacher's voice echoed down the rows of Shadows. "What's the one rule I taught you when you first stepped foot on Infinity Island?"
The hall's focuse shifted.
Shiva stood tall, draped in a crimson overcloak. Behind her, Cassandra Cain walked like a shadow, her presence quiet but thunderous, her noticeably empty sheath strapped to hip.
Their eyes clashed through the air, then Cassandra broke contact as she stared at her sword, still gripped between Damian's two fingers.
'That's mine.' Her frown seemed to say.
'Come and get it then.' Damian's smirk answered. He wasn't pissed that she'd tried to kill him, no no no. Infact he welcomed it.
"Rule? Ah it's been oh so very long Sifū, guess I forgot," he chuckled, his battle spirit humming. "Maybe you should remind me."
Shiva didn't break stride. "I intend to."
Damian stepped forward, balancing the tip of the Katana on a finger.
He walked straight past the Shadows waiting to kill him, Ra's, Sensei, and left Talia behind without sparing any of them a second glance.
Ra's al Ghul, for the first time that day, smiled. A slow, amused curve of the lips.
He said nothing. Only raised a hand to stop anyone from blocking Damian's path.
Cassandra and Shiva stood near the center of the hall now.
Damian approached with quiet confidence, stopping only when he stood before them.
'He's taller.'
Thought Shiva, tilting her head up. "You forgot the rule, did you?"
"I must have," Damian replied, half-shrugging.
Shiva's grin mirrored his. "Then a reminder is necessary." She turned her head slightly. "Cassandra."
Without hesitation, Cassandra sprang forward.
'She's faster than a year ago.'
Damian thought, barely registering her motion.
She came in with a feint, low and fast—a punch that looked wide open, obvious. Damian almost rolled his eyes.
'Too direct,' he inwardly sighed, deflecting her strike and grabbing her wrist.
He moved to twist her around and use her own momentum to bring the sword tip to her throat. But the moment the blade in his hand touched her neck—
She vanished like a mirage.
His grip closed on air.
Damian blinked.
There was no time to react.
He felt the cool kiss of steel press gently against the back of his neck.
He exhaled slowly and looked back.
A smirking Cassandra stood behind him, holding the same sword he'd just used. It wasn't possible. Not unless—
He turned toward Shiva, frowning slightly.
"Afterimage and a technique that erases all presence?" he asked. "I'm hurt Sifū. You been holding out on me."
"There's a lot I didn't teach you," Shiva said plainly. "You're not done growing yet."
Her voice dropped slightly in tone, more serious. "But out of everything I did teach you, one thing must always remain. One lesson stands above the rest, never to be forgotten."
Damian sighed before he slowly turned, eyes narrowed, already knowing what she meant.
Ra's still stood at the top of the hall, watching.
Damian moved without a word. No hesitation. No smirk. He walked to the feet of the stairs and lowered himself into a deep, formal bow before the Demon's Head.
"The Demon's Head is beyond question," Damian said clearly. "Beyond reproach. Beyond doubt."
The room was dead silent, awaiting the Demon's Head response.
Ra's regarded him with quiet satisfaction. "Good. Then let us begin."
And with those words, Damian returned to his previous position, next to Talia who glared at him, though he seemed preoccupied by thought. He barely reacted when Shiva and Cassandra joined them soon after.
A gong sounded and all eyes turned to the stage. Leaving Ra's side, Sensei stepped to the center, a ceremonial scroll rolled in his hands.
The moment of tension was over.
Now came the true reason they had all gathered.
Sensei unrolled the scroll in his hands, its aged surface inked with fresh names.
His voice carried clearly, sharp and unyielding. "As per the tradition of the League, the annual Master Rank promotion trial begins now."
He paused for effect. Shadows in the rafters, silent assassins lined against the pillars, even the great Demon's Head himself remained still, listening.
"This year," Sensei continued, "ten candidates have been selected from among the Elite Shadows. These ten achieved the highest mission completion rates over the past year. They are the League's finest."
He raised the scroll high.
"And from these ten, only two will advance to the final trial. Only two will have the right to ascend to the title of Master."
One by one, Sensei began reading the names aloud.
"Number 10… Hook."
A tall, lean man stepped on the stage, his left hand a jagged, wicked-looking prosthetic claw. He gave a short bow, his long coat sweeping across the floor. The other Elites nodded in quiet acknowledgment—Hook was known for ripping through targets like parchment.
"Number 9… Kairon. Number 8… Skara. Number 7… Fen. Number 6… Zhen."
Damian didn't recognize most of them. But that didn't matter. He hadn't been paying attention to anyone beneath him.
"Number 5… Reika."
A pale woman with crimson war paint across her face emerged from the crowd, her stare dead and glassy.
"Number 4…"
There was no sound—just a faint flutter of movement.
From the ceiling, a maskless Cheshire dropped gracefully, landing beside the others without a word. She grinned lazily at Damian, her fanged smile like that of a cat that had already picked out her next prey. Alas, it was ignored by Damian.
Cheshire pouted.
"Number 3…" Sensei's voice rang again. "Black Spider."
There was no entrance this time, only a ripple of motion. Black Spider swung in from a shadowy corner of the ceiling, descending on a black silk web and landing with barely a sound. His mask covered everything but his eyes. He tried to wave at Talia but she was too busy shifting her glare back and forth from Shiva to Damian.
"Number 2… Cassandra Cain."
She didn't move away from her mother as her afterimage dissolved, and the real Cassandra was already standing at the center of the hall, arms folded. Calm. Focused.
"Showoff." Damian scoffed, feeling the alien emotion of envy.
Finally, Sensei looked down at the last name. A frown twisted his facial features as he ground out.
"And the insufferable Number 1…"
Everyone in the hall already knew.
There was no need to look around.
"Damian."
Damian walked forward normally. His hands in his hoodie's pockets, gaze unfocused.
Not a flicker of the usual pride. Not even the arrogant smirk. Within his mind… his thoughts were somewhere else.
Cassandra.
The afterimage. The sword vanishing. Cheating his senses. The impossibility of what she'd done.
It shouldn't be physically achievable. The kind of speed and misdirection she had used, he'd only read about in legends. Even his Ashura reflexes had barely caught a glimpse of the move the second time she performed it.
It was hard to admit but...
She was much more faster than the current him, even with Ashura. And who knows what other skills she had learned over the year since he'd seen her? She could be stronger, better. An Alpha too.
He wasn't angry really. A little jealous? Perhaps.
But mostly, he was intrigued. No longer bored.
On the stage, his mind kept twisting the memory again and again, like a puzzle box being taken apart—dissecting the physics, the timing, the movement.
'How do I steal it?'
That was his string of thought.
'How do I master it?'
Because as far as Damian was concerned, there can only be one true Alpha. And the Alpha is always the strongest. That was the law of the jungle. The jungle didn't care about fairness. It only crowned one.
And he would be that one.
Always.
Sensei's voice rang out again, now addressing the candidates.
"You ten will be dropped into the island's inner jungle. Your objective is simple. Survive against each other. Kill or be killed. Hide, run, ambush—there are no rules except one."
He lifted a hand toward the towering mountain behind the Grand Hall. At the building sitting higher than anything else within the Fortress.
"The first two to reach the Demon's Head Castle by sunrise tomorrow… will advance to the final trial. The rest—will not."
Everyone knew what he meant by that.
They wouldn't be punished. But they wouldn't get a second chance either, and would have to wait another full year.
Talia's arms were crossed tightly. Deathstroke, still leaning near the exit, gave a low whistle at the rules.
Unbeknownst to Damian, the other challengers regarded him and Cassandra with hostility as they were the greatest threats.
As for Damian, his eyes flicked to his side, where Cassandra stood, staring straight at him too.
She didn't need to speak to make her challenge clear. The provocative smirk she wore was enough.
Damian had no other option than to match it.
This time, without Shiva's interruptions, the stage was set for them to decide...who was actually the strongest.