I stood frozen in the entryway of my own home, the silence in the room pressing down on me so hard it felt like my brain was short-circuiting.
Vandal Savage is my great great grandfather?
My mind immediately began running the frantic mental arithmetic of my family tree, trying to make the pieces align without snapping completely. My father, Jonathan, was a pureblood Viltrumite born thousands of years ago on a world across the cosmos, his true parents lost to Imperial records. On my mother's side, my grandfather was Ares, the literal Greek God of War. But Savage hadn't said grandfather, he'd corrected himself to great-great-grandfather.
Which meant he wasn't connected to Ares. He was connected to my maternal grandmother. The mortal lineage. The ancient, blood-soaked prehistoric bloodline that had carried his primordial immortal genes down through millennia of human history until it collided with Olympus and Viltrum.
"I think he's broken," Damian said plainly from the dining table, his arms crossed over his chest.
Athanasia immediately dug her elbow into his ribs. "Manners, brother."
"Your sister is correct, Damian," Ra's al Ghul said, his voice smooth, refined, and entirely devoid of inflection. "Manners are the hallmark of civilization."
I exhaled a long, shuddering breath, feeling the raw, nervous energy drain out of my limbs and settle into a cold, hard knot in the pit of my stomach. I pinched the bridge of my nose, forced my heartbeat to slow, and closed my eyes for three steady seconds before opening them again.
"Hold on," I muttered, my voice rough. "Just... give me a second. I'm going to prepare a meal."
Vandal Savage offered an easy, patrician smile, waving one heavy hand in dismissal. "That is entirely unnecessary, my son. We did not come here to impose upon—"
"First of all," I snapped, cutting him off with a glare sharp enough to draw blood, "you are all guests in my house, whether you were invited or not. My mother raised me in the old ways—the ancient laws of xenia. You welcome strangers who cross your threshold, provided they entered with respect. You all came through the front door, correct?"
Talia dipped her head with effortless poise. "We did, Caius. The front door was unlocked."
"Good," I said, shifting my gaze back to Savage, my tone dropping into sub-zero territory. "And second... don't you ever call me 'son' again."
Savage's dark eyes twinkled with quiet amusement, but he didn't argue.
I glanced over at the two children sitting beside Talia. Damian and Athanasia. Biologically, they couldn't have been older than ten or twelve, but the way their eyes tracked my center of mass, the subtle tension in their shoulders, and the lethal stillness in their postures made one thing abundantly clear: they were two of the most dangerous living weapons on the face of the planet.
I turned on my heel and walked into the open kitchen. The mundane familiarity of the marbel countertops and polished appliances helped anchor me. I reached into the lower cellar cabinet and retrieved a sealed crystal bottle of deep violet Atlantean vintage, a rare gift Kaldur and Jackson had secured for me months ago, along with a pitcher of fresh-pressed pineapple ginger juice from the fridge.
I set four crystal glasses onto a lacquered serving tray, pouring the dark, fragrant wine for the adults and the juice for the twins.
Walking back to the dining room, I placed the tray down. Savage took his glass immediately, swirling the liquid with practiced elegance before taking a sip.
"Ah," Savage murmured, his heavy brow lifting in genuine appreciation. "Atlantean deep-trench vintage. Fermented in pressurized geothermal vaults beneath the Atlantic ridge. A true delicacy on the surface world. You have refined tastes, Caius."
Athanasia took her glass of juice, her small hands holding the crystal with immaculate posture. "Thank you for the juice, sir."
"It's just Caius," I told her quietly. "Drink up."
Damian took his glass without a word, though his eyes lingered on me with intense scrutiny.
"While I cook," I said, looking back at the three immortals, "you talk. Explain why you're in my kitchen before I decide whether to throw you into low orbit."
I pulled a dark navy blue apron from the hook beside the pantry, tied it around my waist, and set a heavy butcher block cutting board onto the counter. Talia and Savage rose from their seats with fluid, unhurried grace, walking over to the high breakfast bar and taking seats on the leather barstools across from me.
Talia rested her chin on the back of her manicured hand, her emerald eyes glowing with a slow, sensual warmth that seemed entirely innate to her every movement.
"So," Talia purred, her voice dripping like honey over velvet, "what is our gracious host preparing for us tonight?"
"Chicken soup," I replied flatly.
Savage arched an eyebrow, looking down at the ingredients I was pulling from the refrigerator. "Chicken soup? How fascinating. A creature capable of shattering tectonic plates chooses something so utterly... domestic."
"Comfort food keeps people from stabbing each other," I replied, ignoring his jab.
I brought out a large, seasoned cast-iron Dutch oven and a whole, raw, organic chicken. I placed the bird on the board, rubbed it thoroughly with extra virgin olive oil, and coated it in a blend of sea salt, cracked black pepper, smoked paprika, turmeric, and thyme. I diced fresh ginger into fine matchsticks, sliced thick rounds of peeled carrots, and laid several generous pats of butter directly across the bottom of the dry iron pot.
Next came roughly chopped celery, green onions, and crushed garlic cloves, layered evenly over the aromatics before I placed the seasoned whole chicken directly in the center.
Talia leaned forward, her dark hair cascading over her shoulder. "Where is the broth, Caius? Or the water?"
"It's waterless and brothless," I said, fitting the heavy iron lid securely over the pot. "The natural moisture from the vegetables and the chicken renders down under high, pressurized heat. It makes its own broth. Richer. More concentrated."
I placed the cast-iron pot on top of a thick, heat-resistant wooden block on the island counter. Then, narrowing my focus, I activated my tactile telekinesis.
A thin, controlled ribbon of invisible telekinetic force wrapped tightly around the Dutch oven, sealing the edges and creating a micro-pressurized thermal chamber. Beneath my eyelids, a faint golden glow flared. I focused a microscopic, hyper-concentrated burst of TTK-assisted heat vision directly into the base of the iron.
Within seconds, the iron began to radiate intense, perfectly distributed heat. Steam hissed softly against the sealed lid. The aroma blossomed almost instantly—a mouth-watering, savory symphony of roasted garlic, sweet ginger, browned butter, and rich poultry fat filling every corner of the house.
While the chicken rendered in its own juices, I used a second pot to flash-cook a batch of jasmine white rice with the same thermal precision, letting the grains fluff to perfection in under ninety seconds.
I cut off the heat, released the pressure seal with a soft pop of displaced air, and lifted the lid. The pot was filled with a shimmering, golden broth, the chicken fall-apart tender, the vegetables vibrant and glistening.
I pulled out fine porcelain bowls, ladled generous portions of steaming soup over mounds of fluffy white rice, and set chopsticks and silver spoons at each place setting.
As I turned to set down the fourth bowl, I felt a shadow shift directly behind me. I didn't flinch. I just extended the bowl outward.
Standing half an inch behind my left shoulder, having materialized from the quiet gloom of the hallway without displacing a single molecule of air, was Lady Shiva. She wore dark, fitted tactical silks, her cold, lethal gaze assessing my throat before dropping to the steaming bowl in her hands.
She bowed her head with crisp, silent respect. "Thank you, Caius."
"What the hell..." I muttered, exhaling a dry, defeated sigh. I looked over at Savage. "Is anyone else hiding in my pantry? Deathstroke? Gorilla Grodd? Solomon Grundy?"
Savage chuckled warmly, taking a spoonful of soup. "No, no. Forgive us. Shiva simply noted how exquisite the aroma was. We thought it only proper to share in your generosity."
"Excuse me if I don't feel flattered," I said, untying my apron and tossing it onto the counter. "Now eat your soup and tell me what the hell you actually want."
Savage took a careful bite, closed his eyes, and swallowed. A genuine look of contentment washed over his rugged, ancient face. "Divine. Absolutely divine. The ginger cuts through the richness of the poultry with remarkable flavor."
"Thanks," I said dryly. "I made it with the kids in mind."
Across the island, Damian stared down at his bowl. He picked up his spoon, took a tentative sip of the broth, and paused. His eyes widened a fraction of a millimeter before his stoic mask snapped back into place.
"It is... adequate," Damian declared stiffly.
Adequate? You little gremlin, that's gourmet Michelin-star level and you know it. I rubbed my temples. "Alright, enough culinary critique. What is this proposition, Savage? Because if you think I'm joining your little criminal circus, you're out of your mind."
Savage swallowed another spoonful and set his spoon down, chuckling softly. "A criminal circus? Hardly. No, Caius, I have no desire to recruit you as a mere foot soldier. I am here to offer you something far greater."
He gestured toward Ra's al Ghul. "We want you to succeed Ra's. We want you to become the new Demon's Head."
The room went completely still. I stared at Savage, then at Ra's, then back to Savage. "What?"
"You would assume the mantle," Savage explained smoothly. "Command of the League of Assassins. Absolute authority over its legions, its resources, its global network."
Talia's expression tightened, a flicker of sharp, wounded pride flashing behind her emerald eyes before she masked it.
I scoffed. "Are you deaf, or just senile? I'm not doing that either. And why the hell are you offering it to me instead of Ra's's actual children? Or Lady Shiva?"
Ra's set his spoon down with deliberate care. "That was the original design, Caius. For centuries, I sought a worthy successor. I had hoped the Detective would see the wisdom in our vision and accept the mantle. But his narrow morality blinds him. He will never take the throne. Not in this lifetime, nor in any other."
"And the League requires a ruler who transcends mortal frailty," Savage added. "Talia and Shiva will serve as your supreme regents, guiding the transition. But you, Caius... you are unique."
I narrowed my eyes. "What are you two talking about?"
Savage leaned forward, resting his forearms on the bar. His dark eyes burned with intense, predatory fascination. "You are a genetic marvel, my boy. A singular convergence of power never before seen in the history of the cosmos. On your maternal side, you carry the divine blood of Olympus, a demigod lineage fused with the ancient Homo magi strains passed down through my own immortal seed. On your paternal side, you possess the brutal, dominant biology of the Viltrumite Empire."
He tapped the table. "You are human, god, and apex alien. And layered atop all of that, your meta-gene grants you tactile telekinesis with near-limitless versatility. You are an anomaly."
I crossed my arms. "So I'm OP. So what?"
Ra's blinked, his aristocratic brow furrowing. "OP?"
"Overpowered," I translated with a deadpan stare.
Savage barked out a rich, genuine laugh, taking another sip of his Atlantean wine. "A crude modern term, but accurate! I have watched you since the moment of your birth, Caius. Just as I monitor all notable branches of my genetic lineage across the millennia. And you are the only one who fits the grand requirements of my design."
"And what design is that?" I asked, my voice dropping into a dangerous rumble.
Savage's smile faded into something grand, ancient, and terrifyingly vast. "Order, my son. True, lasting order. First for this fractured, chaotic world. Then for our solar system. Then the galaxy, and ultimately, the universe itself. How would you like to rule it all, Caius? Starting small with the League of Assassins, backed by the Shadows, with the Light serving as your council and architects?"
"You mean pulling my strings," I retorted coldly. "Considering Queen Bee works for your little cabal and had a psychic trigger phrase installed in my head to shut me down."
"Control?" Savage shook his head dismissively. "Controlling you is virtually impossible. Your unique Viltrumite-demigod neurology and your tactile field protect your subconscious far too effectively. That phrase was merely a precaution—a temporary failsafe. I apologize for the necessity of it, but when dealing with a god among mortals, one must have contingencies."
"How many more commands do you have in my head?" I demanded.
"Only the one," Ra's answered smoothly. "And it merely immobilizes your mind and motor functions for twenty-four hours, easily broken if a sufficient external stimulus is applied. You have nothing to fear from it."
"Excuse me if I don't take the word of two men who've spent centuries murdering and manipulating civilizations," I scoffed.
Savage smirked. "Fair enough. But what if I told you that we can provide the means to retrieve your parents from the Phantom Zone? What if I told you we have the resources to assist you in the coming war against your father's Empire?"
"I would say you're full of shit and telling the truth at the exact same time," I fired back. "The only question is the cost. And unless you have a Mother Box or a direct dimensional siphon sitting in your pocket right now, eat your soup, pack your assassins, and get out of my house. I'll drop the kids off with Bruce."
Damian's head snapped up. "Drop us off with whom?"
Talia placed a gentle, restraining hand on Damian's shoulder. "Your father, darling. It seems our host is remarkably astute."
I leaned over the counter, glaring directly into Savage's ancient eyes. "Look, I agree this world is broken. The way the Justice League handles things, reacting after the bombs drop, locking psychotics in revolving-door asylums, will never fix anything. But I will never make a deal with the devil."
Savage looked at me, his expression softening into something almost paternal, though far more twisted. "I know, Caius. In many ways, you are the closest thing to a true son I have had in five thousand years. Because you, like me, will outlive the stars. You can stand beside me through the ages. And because of that, I came here tonight to offer you a seat to rule everything and give you a gift. Peace of mind."
My stomach sank. A cold, prickling sensation ran down the back of my neck. "Why do I have a very bad feeling about this?"
Savage laced his fingers together on the counter. "What I am about to tell you is meant to ensure complete transparency between us. The treatment you endured from the Justice League over the last five years? The isolation? The constant suspicion?"
He smiled faintly. "That was my doing. Or rather, the work of the Light."
The air in the room felt like it dropped twenty degrees.
My eyes widened. "What?"
Savage rose from his barstool, clasping his hands behind his back as he paced slowly across the polished floor. "It was remarkably elegant. Through our sleeper assets embedded within the Justice League Watchtower and the Hall of Justice, we introduced a microscopic nanite compound derived from the biological remnants of Starro the Conqueror."
He gestured vaguely in the air. "It was a masterpiece of bio-mysticism and advanced cybernetics. It did not mind-control them. A crude mental takeover of minds like Batman or Martian Manhunter would have triggered every psychic alarm on they had in place. No, its purpose was far more delicate: a persistent, natural-feeling subconscious suggestion."
The realization hit me like a physical blow. The breath caught in my throat.
"To mistrust me," I whispered, the words tasting like ash. "To watch me."
"Precisely," Ra's confirmed, nodding slowly. "Batman and Superman were the primary vectors. The other League members simply followed their lead, their natural biases subtly amplified by the suggestion."
"Why not use it to take over the League entirely?" I asked, my fists shaking with barely contained fury.
"Because radical personality shifts are obvious," Savage replied smoothly. "A surgical manipulation of existing paranoia, however? Batman already distrusts absolute power. Superman already fears alien conquerors. We merely gave their natural inclinations a gentle, invisible push. It was brain surgery performed with a scalpel of pure psychology."
My heart hammered against my ribs, a roaring sound building in my ears. "My isolation... five years of being treated like a ticking time bomb... that was you?"
"Yes."
"And Alfred?" My voice cracked slightly. "Was Alfred compromised too?"
"No," Savage said, shaking his head. "Pennyworth acted entirely of his own volition. A testament to his loyalty to you, in fact. We did not need to tamper with him."
The rage inside me boiled over, hot and suffocating, flooding my veins with pure Viltrumite fire. "Why? Why do that to a kid?!"
"To break you," Savage said plainly, turning to face me. "To strip away your illusions about heroes. We wanted you at your absolute lowest so you would seek out the only people who truly understood power, us. But to your immense credit, you did not break. You did not hate the world. You only hated the League, and your desire to protect your family never wavered. It is a shame... had our plan succeeded fully, you would already be leading the League of Assassins today. You would be leagues stronger than you are now."
I took a slow, trembling step forward. "And are you the reason my parents are trapped in the Phantom Zone?"
Savage met my gaze without flinching. "Yes. Jonathan and your mother were too powerful, too protective, and far too influential. The plan was always to remove them from the board so that we could introdu...."
He never finished the sentence. I released a point-blank, hyper-concentrated blast of tactile telekinetic heat vision directly through Vandal Savage's face.
The golden beam erupted with the force of a directed solar flare. The air screamed as ozone and vaporized flesh filled the room. The beam tore through the bridge of his nose, his eyes, and his frontal lobe, punching straight through the back of his skull and scorching a black, smoking crater into the reinforced wall behind him.
Savage's body went limp, collapsing heavily onto the floor with a dull, wet thud. Smoke curled from the gaping, blackened cavity where his face had been. Complete, deafening silence descended over the dining room.
Ra's al Ghul looked down at Savage's smoking corpse, set his napkin neatly beside his bowl, and sighed. "That was to be expected."
I stood over the body, my eyes still crackling with red electricity, my chest heaving with murderous intent.
"Get him out of my house, before his immortality regenerates his brain" I snarled, my voice vibrating with enough kinetic force to rattle the dishes in the cupboards. " And don't ever step foot in my home again. If I see the League of Assassins or the Light anywhere in Gotham without my permission, I will come down on your fortress like the meteor that wiped out the dinosaurs."
Ra's rose smoothly to his feet, adjusting his emerald cloak. "Threats are unnecessary, Mr. Dawn. We shall take our leave. But mark my words: succeeding me is your destiny. You will outlive every mortal who walks this Earth. And whether you sire a child with my daughter or, in time, with my granddaughter, as long as our bloodlines unite, the world will finally know true order."
"She's twelve!" I snapped, gesturing violently at Athanasia.
Talia stepped past me, pausing just inches away, her perfume of jasmine and steel washing over my senses. "It is called an arranged dynastic union, Caius. What is waiting seven, ten, or even thirteen years to an immortal? Or..." She leaned in closer, her lips brushing the shell of my ear, "...you could have me. I could teach you how to command the League, how to reshape this world, and bear you heirs worthy of your divine blood."
Damian and Athanasia groaned in perfect unison. "Mother..."
Talia waved an elegant hand behind her without looking back. "Not now, children. Mother is courting a suitor."
"Get the hell out of my house," I growled, stepping back.
I looked down at the twins. "And no killing in Gotham. Not until I figure out who actually deserves it and who's part of a bigger trap. Got it?"
Damian narrowed his sharp green eyes in silent defiance, but Athanasia gave a small, respectful bow. "Understood, Caius."
"We shall see you very soon, Caius Dawn," Ra's said.
"For your sake, it better be in handcuffs," I replied.
Suddenly a flash-smoke pellet detonated on the floor. Thick, sulfurous black smoke billowed through the dining room. When the cloud cleared two seconds later, Ra's, Talia, Shiva, the twins, and Vandal Savage's headless body were completely gone.
I stood alone in the quiet kitchen, coughing slightly as I waved the smoke away. Then I looked at the counter. The entire cast-iron Dutch oven, and all the remaining chicken soup, was gone.
"Son of a bitch," I muttered, staring at the empty wooden block. "They stole the damn pot and my food." I dragged both hands down my face, leaning heavily against the counter. I was related to Vandal Savage, I was manipulated by him for years, and I am expected to run the league of Assasins and sire a child with either Talia or her daughter. "Could this day get any worse?"
The doorbell rang , followed by two sharp, heavy knocks followed immediately after.
I stiffened. "What now?!" I marched to the front door, grabbed the brass handle, and yanked it open, ready to tear the head off whoever was standing on my porch.
"WHAT?!" The words died in my throat.
Standing on my front porch were two women. And neither of them was human.
The first was roughly six feet tall, with a flawless, athletic gymnast's physique and voluptuous curves. She had sharp, stunning features, jet-black hair cut into a sleek pixie style, emerald green eyes and sun-kissed, golden-tanned skin with a distinct, radiant orange undertone. She looked like a cosmic goddess carved from living bronze.
Beside her stood a taller woman, easily six-foot-two. She had shoulder-length, flowing midnight-black hair, warm caramel-brown skin, and piercing, glowing amber eyes set in a fierce face. Her body was built like a lean, muscle, radiating raw, effortless power.
Both of them looked like supermodels, but it wasn't their beauty that made my heart freeze in my chest. It was their clothes. They were wearing the stark, immaculate white bodysuits of the Viltrumite Empire.
My mind raced at light speed, piecing together the visual data. The shorter woman... the golden-orange skin, the regal bearing... Anissa. Matriarch known as the Dawn Fire, an ancient ancestor connected to the royal line of Tamaran, just like Nolan had described in the Watchtower.
And the taller woman beside her... caramel skin, amber eyes, Viltrumite uniform. I figured who she was from her face. She looks just like dad. The older half-sister my father had sired centuries before he ever set foot on Earth. A Type Two hybrid. Viltrumite and Daxamite. Gaia.
What the hell are they doing here already?! We were supposed to have more time!
Anissa stepped forward, her eyes pinning me to the floorboards. Her voice was cool, commanding, and absolute. "Caius Dawn. Come with us. We will talk."
I forced my voice to remain level, stepping out onto the porch. "Who are you?"
"I am Captain Anissa of the Viltrumite Vanguard Fleet," she stated without a trace of emotion. "And this is Captain Gaia. We have been dispatched by the Grand Regent as the official Negotiators. We are here to judge your progress in readying Earth for the Empire's arrival."
Gaia tilted her head slightly, her amber eyes scanning my face with intense, predatory curiosity. A faint, knowing smirk touched her lips. "Hello, little brother," Gaia said smoothly. "Come with us. We must talk."
I could tell she wasn't making a request. It was an command.
I stared at them for a fraction of a second. Behind my back, my thumb pressed firmly against the covert emergency transponder on the side of my watch, transmitting a high-priority, maximum-level SOS ping directly to the Justice League Watchtower and Titans Tower.
With a silent mental command, the nanites beneath my suit activated. The dark crimson and black material swarmed across my skin in a fluid wave, instantly locking into place as the armored Superior suit. The glowing viltrum emblem flared to life across my chest.
I looked at my half-sister, then at Anissa. "This way ladies," I said coldly.
I kicked off the porch, launching myself into the night sky at supersonic speed, streaking far away from Gotham to keep the city out of the blast radius of whatever was about to happen.
The two Viltrumite captains matched my speed effortlessly, flanking me on either side as we broke through the cloud cover.
Looking ahead into the dark, starless void above the atmosphere, only one thought echoed in my mind: This day just got worse.
End of Volume 1