Capítulo 7: Replacing the demon
He had already said it, but...
Outer space, contrary to the belief of many people, was actually a very comfortable place to rest.
Perhaps not to most people.
Possibly not when the rays produced by the nearby sun hits you.
The heat and the radiation of a giant ball of thermonuclear fusion would have many adverse effects on a regular human had the Earth's atmosphere not been there to act as a filter for the radiations that it exuded daily.
Prolonged exposure to such radiation would undoubtedly be lethal to any living being originating from Earth.
But not for an alien lifeform who is empowered by the radiation of the yellow sun of the solar system.
Close to the sun, a naked giant of a men could be seen afloat facing the sun closely and soaking up the brunt of its ray and radiation with his body, if not for a simple camouflage spell.
His hands were extended to the sides as he closed his eyes and held his breath, surviving and very much alive despite the sheer amount of supposedly impossible factors that stated what he did was not something that could be done by any regular organism.
His naked form showed that he possessed a body that looked as if he were a statue chiseled from marbles.
A true representation of a Greek god.
His shoulders wide, his muscles were extremely well-defined from the muscles of his arms, his torso, and the muscles on his legs as well.
Long, blond-colored crew cut hair, face clean of any trace of beard since he had perfect control over this form appearance.
He then opened his eyes and defiantly stared at the sun, as if his icy blue eyes were not bothered by its ray that hit his eyes without any type of protection.
The yellow sun of the local solar system that Earth inhabited had been a kind, if a bit excessively benefactor to Patrick Wayne for fifteen years and five months of Earth's standard time.
Though in this magical form, he appeared to be an adult at his peak performance.
Never once in his life had he gotten sick, never once had he felt the body's urgent need to sleep, to eat, to drink or to sustain itself with anything.
He did it because he enjoyed doing so.
Though in reality he was fueled by the radiation of the star that had given life to the blue planet below him, the planet that he had considered his home.
He had always found his periodically re-charging sessions as an experience that was far more liberating and empowering compared to recharging on the surface or the atmosphere of Earth.
And not long ago, he noticed clear signs of his cells recharging themselves even without the exposure to the sun.
Although be it to a lesser speed rate.
For the last few years, Kal-el had been traveling the world, keeping himself busy whenever possible to experience things, to learn, to see the world through the eyes of one of the most influential people in the world.
And some times, those less special, those who were forced to live rather unscrupulously.
In those cases he was always the observer, he only intervened whenever the outcome would benefit him somehow.
When the situation was simple... which it rarely was, considering the complexity of situations that writers wrote some characters backstories and personalities.
He tried to help all those who would be useful to him.
While he was backed by the money that his family possessed, he decided to use the money he kept acquiring from criminal organizations.
And sometimes he felt like staying at a relatively remote wilderness in varying types of natural regions.
Finally fulfilling his past life's survivalist dreams.
Lately however... he had been drawn to a certain place in particular.
He looked down towards a particular location on Earth, a very well-known mountain range that possessed one of the tallest mountains on the planet.
The Himalayan mountain regions, a creation of nature that stood tall as a natural borderline between the countries that neighbored it.
Patrick had been keeping tabs there for about a month, sometimes living not unlike a monk, with spare food and a shabby house that he made by himself on one of the peaks of the mountain range, which he had been using as a makeshift observatory whenever he wasn't on space.
The range of his vision had only gotten better with time and constant practice.
Even now, he could easily see the small settlements and monasteries scattered sporadically across the mountain range, and one monastery had caught his attention due to its relevance to Batman's mythologies.
Feeling that he had observed enough, he flew down towards the mountain range.
Re-entering the atmosphere he turned to his regular kryptonian form, Kal-el began to breathe in the air of the nourishing planet and he directed his flight course towards the small tent that he had set up.
Even though he did not need to sleep or eat or drink, it was good sense to mark your territory, to have a landmark which you could go to, so to speak.
Worst case scenario, he always had his golden palace awaiting his summoning.
But back to the zealot lifestyle.
Even when he decided to venture to the streets of the Middle East, he was always driven to find some spots which he could use as a place to stay, even illegally.
The tent located at one of the peaks of Himalayas allowed him to spy on that certain Monastery, located at a shorter mountain far away from the mountain peak that he was staying at for normal human eyes to see as more than just a speck, barely visible because of how small it looked like from there.
From the outside it looked like a normal monastery.
One that did not seem very welcoming, considering that it was rather dark and drab.
It was not a normal monastery however, as the people within the walls of the building were not monks that valued peace and tranquility.
They were assassins.
A league of them.
Patrick could casually observe the numbers that they had on the monastery.
But he knew, they also possessed several links around the globe.
The young Wayne had been putting them under his surveillance for over a month, studying their prowess in combat, stealth, recon, and tactics from far away using only his sight and ears.
He was almost impressed.
The legendary reputation that was suggested by the comics, cartoons, movies and other media that spoke of their abilities were only slightly exaggerated.
The assassin's intel he interrogated long ago were accurately proven during his current investigation.
They have trained for decades, and some of them have trained for centuries to reach the pinnacle of physical perfection, and their training showed that all of that was not for naught.
And, as previously stated, they were assassins.
They were ruthless and merciless, and to add to that already classic mix, it seemed that they were also a bit dogmatic.
Ra's Al Ghul, the Demon's Head in Arabic, was revered as their leader through a powerful version of a militant religion.
Being Assassins, they were willing to take on missions, especially when it involved a high rank criminal like the one at Lena's birthday party.
Yeah, Luthor's investigation reached that far.
But Patrick knew, the assassins were not only driven by the promised reward, they were also driven by a warped sense of justice and self-righteousness.
This group earned the legendary reputation that surrounded them.
Patrick took time to polish his skills by studying theirs and finding ways to perfect their techniques through his kryptonian rational understanding and Solomon's wisdom.
He absolutely knew he was doing this the easy way, that he was cheating his way to surpass in minutes what these assassins achieved in a lifetime.
But he didn't care.
During his close inspections, he had been meticulous so as to not arouse these assassins' suspicion of him.
He had never once left footprints, completely aware of the constant patrols and not to mention that he had no need for touching the ground.
Every time he wanted to watch them, he would cover himself with a bit of magic to make sure he was absolutely invisible, lied down with his chest on the ground and stared at the monastery with his augmented eyes.
They... caught his fascination to say the least.
He decided to take the 'mysterious talented initiate' approach, while his true intention would be to gain Ra's favoritisms and eventually become his choice as a worthy successor of leading the league.
———————————————————
He looked for the rare flower- a blue
double bloomed poppy- that grows on the Eastern slopes.
Already aware that Scarecrow might eventually be a thing later on.
Finding the flower was easier than he expected.
There he was in a field of the blue poppies, retrieving all of them.
Carrying it up the mountain was even easier.
Wayne, casually walked through driving snow up an icy ridge...
He cleared the ridge, flops down into the snow, his scarf-wrapped in his face to not stand up among the population.
The cutting wind attempted without effect to bar him from seeing the monastery perched on jagged rock.
Wayne climbed up the steps to the vast doors of the monastery.
From the make of the construct, it could be assumed that this monastery had endured the test of time for quite a long time.
He unwrapped his fist, and carefully pounded against the ice covered wood, knocks echoing deep within.
No response.
But his super senses allowed him to witness the frenetic movement happening inside the place.
Wayne lowered his forehead and patiently awaited a proper response.
Eventually a grinding noise came from within.
Wayne was disguised as a different young man with silver hair, but kept his handsome looks.
The doors swung open to darkness... if his eyes were ordinary.
He walked forward into a low-ceilinged wooden hall lit by flickering lamps.
Ignoring the harsh cold, he pulled his brittle scarves.
Patrick heard the doors thud shut behind him.
At the far end, on a raised platform, was sitting a dark robed figure.
RA'S AL GHUL.
Kal moved calmly towards him...
When suddenly, armed warriors of various races and genders emerged from the shadows.
Their bows taut, swords drawn... yup, they were ninjas.
Wayne stopped in his tracks.
"Wait." Someone ordered in urdu and the warriors stopped moving.
Wayne stared at the source of the command... a young woman with an arabian heritage, was leaning against a nearby pillar with a smug expression.
Patrick reached into his layers of clothing and pulled out the double-bloomed blue poppy. Holding it out, in a gesture of offer.
Ra's Al Ghul started to speak in Urdu and the girl translates his words.
"Welcome new recruit! You've completed the first challenge. Like everyone, fear has been your guide. But now you must advance or fear will keep you on your knees. We will help you conquer your fears. In exchange you will renounce the cities of men. You will live in solitude. You will be a member of the Leagues of Shadows."
The one Patrick was sure was named Thalia took the flower from his hand.
She considers its delicate blue petals before asking. "Are you ready to begin?" Thalia threads the flower through the buttonhole of her robe.
Patrick looked at her and nodded.
"Good! Death does not wait for you to be
ready!" She announced before attempting to punch him in a surprise attack.
He calmly evaded her strike.
At that she grinned a little.
"Death is not considerate, or fair." She lunges with the intent of hitting him with a spinning kick.
But then again, he dodges it as if her attack was in slow motion.
Her grin kept widening. "And make no mistake... here, death is your opponent."
The woman turns, whipping her leg in a fearsome roundhouse kick aimed straight at Wayne's neck...
But he blocks the kick with a lateral movement of his forearm. He stares at her, eyes blazing.
Thalia finally allows her grin to become a full fledged smile.
He brings her feet up, but she escapes with a back flip.
Both of them assume a martial stance.
Thalia stroke multiple times, but Patrick effortlessly blocks and parries, driving his body through a series of fluid, skilled moves.
Deciding to show off, he begins labeling the multiple styles of martial art that she has been using against him.
"Tiger, Crane, Viper, Mantis, Monkey... Jiu Jitsu...Taekwondo...You indeed are skilled my lady, but I didn't come here to dance."
Patrick grapples Thalia Al Ghul and punches her belly.
"I know that when facing death you learn the truth..." Patrick's head smashes against her face, and she falters because of his strength.
"That humans are weak." He smashes her in the chest.
"That humans are always alone."
Patrick slams Thalia's chin, sending her down hard.
This time, her smile was nowhere to be seen.
"And that everyone is afraid of something."
He crouches at her side while staring at her, looking into her glazed eyes.
"But I'm not."
He leans close and pulls the flower from her lapel, replacing it on his clothes.
He then announces to the room filled with semi-immortal ninjas.
"Tell me, league of shadows. What do you fear? Are you afraid of me?"
He quickly turns his head and stares at a group of ninjas, they immediately flinch under his gaze.
Ra's Al Ghul, seated on his throne at the head of the room began clapping with a clear expression of satisfaction.
Patrick knew his cue and bowed respectfully.
'The Shang Tsung right there could at least announce: Flawless Victory. But I guess it's best to just ignore for now the man that enjoys seeing his own daughter getting thrashed like I did just now. Thankfully he did not demand a fatality.'
———————————————————
Judge. Jury. Executioner.
These people thought of themselves above good and evil to inflict punishment upon those that they had deemed guilty.
During these past sixteen days, I began to see the commitment that they possessed towards their sense of justice and duty, to the point where they were willing to execute people for crimes as petty and as small as stealing the crop that his neighbor had yielded.
Justice did not discriminate, they said.
Justice demanded that they punish every wrongdoer, no matter how small their crime was, they had to be given the proper retribution.
The way these people saw things, every crime was the same and that also went with the punishments that they dished out.
This was something that he would have to alter a little.
Dogmatic blind beliefs, such as the one they had, might be destructive and ineffective.
And it probably was not exactly what the world needed. Not with me around.
Not saying I would ban the death penalty to the league, quite far from it.
But I want to focus all this bloodlust into something that aided in my wishes.
I also acknowledged that in some circumstances killing was necessary. Not condoned nor encouraged, but necessary.
Right now, I'm clad in an all-black get-up, with the classical pair of gauntlets I adored so much.
Covering my head showing only my eyes.
The old fashion balaclava was also quite comfortable as well.
———————————————————
Thalia lead Patrick along a screened passage overlooking extraordinary mountains.
She opens a door... leading Wayne onto a mezzanine level stacked with boxes and bottles.
The ninjas pour powders into packets, mixing compounds.
Thalia takes a pinch of a powder and throws it down.
BANG!
Wayne didn't flinch.
Thalia nodded respectfully. "Advanced techniques of Ninjutsu employs explosive powders."
"As weapons and distractions I presume. After all, theatricality and deception really are powerful agents." He replied.
"Precisely!" She hands him a pinch of the powder.
"To be a great warrior is not enough. Flesh and blood, however skilled, can be destroyed... you must be more than just a man in the minds of your opponents."
Wayne listens to this trying his hardest to not grin at her and tosses the powder nonetheless.
BANG!
...
Wayne and Thalia circle each other on the ice, swords poised to strike. They were dark figures in the white and blue landscape.
Thalia stroke at Patrick, who deflected the blow using his silver gauntlet with three scallops (thick, hook-like projections).
He then skids left, breath steaming, feinting with his sword.
Thalia steps sideways on the ice, her foot landing on a thin patch without making a sound, water bubbling underneath them.
"What did you say about watching your surroundings? Always! Remember?" He taunts her.
She strikes, but he blocks.
She slips right and dash at him with a short thrust.
Patrick's arm flips down in a backhand move and catches her sword in one of his scallops.
"You know one can break a sword with these." He pointed to her.
"These are well crafted steel weapons, no one will be breaking them that easily..." She replied.
He rotates his arm while she is distracted mid sentence, wrenching her sword from her grasp, and it skids along the ice.
"Are you really the daughter of Lord Ra's?"
Thalia, enraged, dives at Patrick, swinging at him with the scallops, furious, but not reckless.
Patrick parries with his sword before they lock, noses inches apart, Thalia breathing... angry...
"Stuck a nerve did I? Anger does not change the fact that you lack what it takes to fight me!"
"The ground doesn't allow me to show you my best." She countered with confidence.
"Did the ice disturb you when we first met?" He teased.
"You clearly have special training." She argued.
"The training is nothing. The will to take control is everything." He replied her with a serious and loud tone.
Thalia considers this... breathing slowing... calmer... they separate.
Patrick regards the harshly beautiful landscape, and the beautiful young assassin princess in front of him.
'It is a shame that one must come so far to see the world as it is meant to be. Purity. Serenity... Solitude.'
Thalia stared at the one supposed to be her disciple.
Patrick stroke down at her with his sword.
She blocked the strike with her forearms crossed, sliding between his legs across the ice to where her sword lied.
Grasping her sword she spun, sweeping at Patrick's feet.
For the sake of their bonding he plays along as he leaps... she catches his foot and brings him down onto the ice.
She thrust her sword at his throat...
But Patrick effortlessly catches the blade, stopping inches from his bare neck.
She immediately freezes at his sudden burst of speed.
Wayne looks up at the daughter of the demon, smiling wickedly and shakes his head.
"Sensei, you haven't beaten me. You've
sacrificed sure footing for a killing stroke. And you failed at that." Patrick then taps the ice beneath her feet with enough force so the ice gave way, plunging her through the surface.
'Can't believe that it actually worked.' He thought.
...
Later, Patrick was feeding a small fire with Thalia rubbing her chest, shivering violently against hypothermia.
Patrick looked at her.
"Now I believe you, the ice really disturbs you."
They smiled at each other laughing and began talking about philosophical matters.
From time to time they shared some stories and ideas.
Though Wayne still kept his real identity a secret.
She told him that she travelled the world with her father learning and adapting to his intellect and skills which she proves to be more competent than any of her siblings.
She even managed her father criminal and legitimate operations.
Yeah, the assassins for justice saw no hypocrisy in that.
Sha was on her way to become Ghul's second hand despite the fact that her father considers women to be inherently inferior to men in regards to ruling.
With a few magical charms, she even revealed to him her innate longevity and slowed aging.
———————————————————
Thalia leapt up onto a stone wall, grabbing on using pikes on her palms and on her feet.
Wayne kept watching.
She gestures up to the top of the fifty feet wall.
"Perhaps you can beat my record."
Patrick jumps up confidently onto the wall, higher than Thalia.
"How long?" He asked, smiling.
"Two days." She replied. "The test is not to see how quickly you can climb, but how slowly. The Ninjas are thought to be invisible, but invisibility is largely a matter of patience."
...
Some days later.
She slowly reaches up for another handhold.
Wayne and Thalia cling to the wall just short of the roof, eyes locked.
She was already in agony, sweat-drenched, straining.
She then sighed and reached for the roof and pulled herself up.
Wayne closed his eyes while smiling and then pulled himself up onto the roof.
As she lied there in the half-light as they turned to each other.
She was already used to his absurd power.
"Yeah, you were always ready."
———————————————————
It had been a month since he accepted the foreigner into his ranks, and the mysterious recruit had already proven to be far from ordinary.
And that coming from him wasn't a small achievement, considering that he was the leader of a group whose members possessed the greatest cultivated aptitude in the techniques of stealth and assassination.
His instincts had never failed him, and now, despite all odds and the seemingly improbable notion, the feeling of finding a worthy successor began lingering since the new recruit's arrival, looming over him like a shadow.
He had been putting the thought on the back of his mind at first, he assumed that it was just some hidden desperation of his showing itself.
Surveillance from far away proved fruitless, the man didn't show the slightest sign of deception.
Neither did his meticulous investigation about his background.
But why did it feel as if this man was always close by?
As if he could feel the recruit's breath on his neck while watching his back with a piercing gaze.
In the decades of his life, he had been subjected to such a feeling only once.
And it was when he was but a novice under the guidance of a master which he later killed and usurped the throne that the old man had been sitting upon.
However, he did not let his conflict be shown to his underlings.
He kept himself calm and composed, simple enough and easy to do, however, despite his calmness on the exterior, he was quite elated at the prospect of the possibility of having a competent rival to watch out for.
And possibly, someone that could lead the league of shadows alongside his daughter... Thalia.
Whoever this person was, and whatever it was that he wanted from training with them, he will know that Ra's Al Ghul was never one to back down from a challenge nor someone easy to please.
———————————————————
The blue poppy, now shriveled dry, lied on the altar.
Wayne, clad in black ninja uniform, watched as Ra's himself, also in black, picked it up, took a pestle and mortar, dropped in the dried flower, and ground it to dust.
He then poured the dust into a small brazier. Lighting it and motioning to Wayne to approach the smoking altar.
"Breathe in your fears. Face them."
Wayne breathed the smoke. He shook his head, but felt none of the effects of the mist... no images were there to plague his mind.
Ra's put on his ninja mask, motioning again for Wayne to do the same.
'When I first watched this scene I questioned: Why the masks?'
As if in cue, dozens of ninjas stepped forward from the shadows. The hall was filled with identical Ninjas.
Ra's had melted into the crowd as a result.
'Had to admit, this is really neat.'
Wayne slightly raised his guard, and caught the man's scent.
The magical scent he attributed to the Lazarus pit, because Ra's was clearly the one exuding this scent to a much higher degree than the rest.
He began speaking, projecting his voice all around the room as he skillfully moved. "To conquer fear, you must become
fear... you must bask in the fear of other men... and men fear most what they cannot see-"
Ra's stroke at Wayne, but he immediately spun, parrying the attack and forcing Ra's to hide again.
The ninjas move in unison forming rows...
"It is not enough to be a man... you
have to become an idea... a terrible thought... a wraith..."
The Ninja nearest to Wayne turned and slashed, it was Ra's.
Not at all surprised, Wayne leapt sideways, rolling through the wall of Ninjas.
He looked at his arm, he had purposefully allowed him to connect the slash, now his uniform was torn and a dead giveaway of his identity.
But Wayne simply looked around and crouched, ready.
"Face your fear..."
Ra's leapt at Wayne, who rolled sideways, blocking while doing so.
Patrick did not even bother to turn and face Ra's, he knew his opponent had already hidden himself amongst the other ninjas.
Instead, Kal-el stood low, slashing the arm of the ninjas nearest to him, not letting his opponent notice him.
Wayne turned.
He kept looking at a ninja pacing softly through the crowd, as he spoke, he could tell this is Ra's Al Ghul.
In fact, from the beginning, he had never lost track of him.
"Become one with the darkness..."
Ra's fell in behind a ninja with a slashed sleeve... He knocked him to his knees, sword against his throat.
"You cannot leave any sign..."
He pulled off his own mask. Disappointed.
"I haven't."
A sword manifested close behind Ra's' neck, behind him, Wayne stood there pulling off his mask.
The Head of the Demon looked around... several of the Ninjas around them had slashed sleeves.
He smiled.
The Ninjas turned, in unison, and sat.
Ra's Al Ghul walked towards his throne as Wayne sat down in front of him.
A Ninja placed a tray between them: a bottle and a burning candle.
Thalia placed the candle in front of Wayne and handed him a small glass.
Ra's Al Ghul began speaking.
"You really are fearless as you claimed to be...You are ready to lead these men. You are ready to take my place as the leader of the League of Shadows. Drink."
Wayne tipped back the glass. He felt nothing, but understood it was the "antidote" of this prototype fear gas.
"By blowing out this candle, you renounce your mortal life. You renounce forever the cities of men. You dedicate your life to solitude."
Wayne leaned forward to blow out the candle but he paused time with his super speed.
Looking at the rows of seated Ninjas bowing to him was quite the sensation.
And so he proceeded to become the leader of the League of Assassins.
———————————————————
At night, we resided in the monastery, in our respective chambers to rest and meditate.
For now, I continued living in my simple room.
We always followed a schedule, some of them would be allowed to sleep on certain days while on the others, another group would have to stand guard over some important spots in the monastery.
As it appears, even though we are the best of the best, we were not the only clan of assassins.
Not by a long shot.
Dozens of them... it's actually quite ridiculous.
Though they were more keen on mundane rewards like money.
A lot of them had recently band together in hopes of successfully raiding my monastery.
Anyways.
During my time observing the league, one of the spots in the monastery I had found that was the most likely for someone to infiltrate was located at the storage room, with a window that could easily be broken without having to alert a lot of the guards owing to the fact that there was only a small number of them near that room.
By the way... I may or may not have secretly hired all of the mercenaries coming tonight with my personally acquired money.
And perhaps I provided some advantageous intel to the mercenaries.
So, I've ordered the league to allow the enemies free passage to the storage room as quietly as possible.
Using my vision and hearing, I could ascertain the location of each of the invaders and their reconnaissance route at real time, and with my capability to store a large amount of memory, I remembered the monastery in great detail as if I was living here through all my life.
Every hallway and room had been memorized, and with that, I was able to set the perfect trap as the mercenaries traverse through the monastery without facing direct conflict.
A bit of a large scale illusion allowed me to make everyone ignore the weirdness of the situation.
No guards? No barriers?
C'mon.
As they made their way towards the prison chambers, they finally encountered the hallways.
Though skilled, I knew that they wouldn't be able to properly retaliate as I ordered to incapacitate them.
The first ones were subdued carefully through techniques resembling choke holds.
The league's assassins crept up from behind, used their arms and hands to block the enemies' nose, mouth, partially blocking their respiratory system using physical force.
Properly incapacitated, they hid the captured unconscious bodies in the nearest dark corner.
The second group was caught halfway towards the prison chambers, they came from the mercenaries' front, and the method of quick incapacitation was slightly changed, with their incredible speed.
His ninjas charged towards the invaders, flipping above them, grabbing them in a choke hold.
The enemies struggled for a bit before they went limp.
The relative darkness of the monastery helped the league to be efficiently stealthy.
Their movements were like that of a ghost, swift, soundless, and untraceable, as if trying to locate a wind while one could only trace its movements when one felt its force against their skin.
In the dark cellar, my ninjas were quickly reducing the invaders numbers without they even noticing.
———————————————————
Ra's Al Ghul had not slept for a long time.
Not literally... but indeed, his time to embrace the eternal slumber had been multiple times denied by him and by fate.
He planned to await a few years to finally strike Gothic Metropolis and consequently the other major plagued cities.
But his newest recruit proved himself to be a completely worthy successor.
He has bested his talented daughter.
And he had bested him as well.
In his meditative state, he could feel the smallest of noises produced in the building and almost every presence within the monastery of the League.
He did not miss the sounds of several of the league members incapacitating the stupid invading force, however, he did miss the sound of his successor, the mysterious young man.
This had always intrigued him.
Ra's al Ghul was not a man who could be easily fooled with a man's ability to subdue his presence, but this one was proficient enough in the art that he could not feel the faintest feeling of his presence.
The man was skilled, that he could not deny, considering how he could move without being thoroughly detected by Ra's Al Ghul.
A true successor.
A worthy one, an leader with a cause, a drive, and the skill sufficient enough for him to best anyone in his path, even his well-trained killers taught in the way of ninjas, in espionage and assassination.
With a smile, the old man of the monastery kept silent, allowing his nameless successor to show these lowly mercenaries how great of a leader he was.
———————————————————
The hallways of the monastery were foreboding and seemed to be watching everyone silently with invisible eyes as they went past them, but it turned out to be nothing more than their feelings, as the mercenary leaders managed to lead them to the door leading to the cellar of the monastery which contained a lot of gunpowder in barrels.
Strangely, there were no guards there, they have yet to see or hear any, and the masters were in the corner, crouching, ready to execute their mission.
Somehow, the obviousness of the trap didn't registered in their minds.
"Wait here." The leaders said to their henchmen, and moved.
Their movements were fast, their footsteps produced almost no sound, and what was almost audible was the friction of air that the velocity of their movements created, but an average person would not notice it until it was too late.
But there was no such thing as 'noticing it until it was too late' with these people, because of the impossible chances for one to figure out what happened after they were terminated.
The invading group of leaders watched over each other as they ran, they had received enough information about this building and had learn that the informant had also somehow provided for them not being attacked by hidden assassins guarding the perimeter.
But one could never be too much cautious in this line of work.
Supposedly the rest of their forces were aiding the other groups to take down the infamous and legendary League of Shadows.
With purposeful gait and silence, they strode through the assassins' headquarters.
While fully-armored and equipped with several of their personal weapons, the leaders entered the room and proceed to make a small fire on a hearth that was exuding a wisp-like smoke that permeated the whole room.
The silence that came for the next few minutes was finally broken when the leaders heard someone saying, seemingly aimed towards no one in particular. "Not everyone can be fool enough to dare and raid my domain. I thought you'd leave after you noticed your forces numbers dwindling, but yet here you are. Seeking to fulfill something."
Patrick then stepped out of the shadows in a calm, unshakable manner. "Something that... you think can be fulfilled, through our gunpowder reserves. Tell me, oh raiders in the dark... What is it that you seek to fulfill?"
It took some seconds for a voice to reply among the shocked group of mercenaries, a man, with a deep voice that was emphasized by a deliberate growl to his voice. "I wanted to meet the man who lead and train these assassins. Our contract ask for his head."
Swiftly and with what seemed to be years of practice and experience apparent in his movement, Kal-el turned to face the masked man. "And now we have met." He said it rather simply. "What would be your next step?"
He could see a brewing conflict beneath the masked man's eyes.
In the group of silent men, one of them pulled out his sword from the sheath and swiftly began to assault Kal.
Though the mercenary was surprised when his target blocked the swing that was directed at his neck with nothing but his forearm and was not cut in the process, he did not stop in surprise, as his refined instinct merely told him to strike harder and faster.
He followed it with a thrust against the man's chest. A normal reaction would be for the man to jump back, but he didn't, and the resistance that the point of his sword met made him change his attack.
The sound that his sword made when it hit the man's skin was not the sound of a pierced flesh that he had known so well.
No, it was the sound of something resisting the steel of his sword's edge, the blade was meeting resistance from the man's body as if the man was made of a malleable steel.
The others immediately joined him in an attempt to kill their target.
Against the onslaught, the man seemed content in just blocking the mercenaries attacks, and thus, they tried to exploit his weak points.
Eyes, throats, mouth, nostrils, any weak extremities or orifices of the human body, but their weapons could do nothing to cut him, let alone wound him.
The only thing that prevented Kal-el from killing them outright was his plans for them.
For all of the seasoned killers' knowledge, they knew not what to do to prevail against the invincible man.
Any possible combat technique and move that might've gave them an edge against faster or stronger opponents would not help them here, for the man he was facing was not a human who could fall easily by the touch of a steel's edge.
Turning into another combat method was simply not recommended, because if he could resist a steel's edge, then what other method could work against him?
If brute force could work, how much of it that was available to them would be needed to hurt the man?
Distraction would be the best option.
Distraction, retreat, regroup and retaliate with greater force, with perhaps some explosive involved in the mix since these barrels in the room seemed to not have been filled with what they had been informed.
However, before they could do so, their target decided to act.
And with a grip of his hands, every time he caught their attacks and squeezed their weapons, he shattered it with ease.
The leaders would never admit that they felt powerless at that moment, but a swift tactical retreat must always be a man's choice in situations like this.
However, before they could escape or alert their subordinates, they found their shoulders being squeezed to the point they felt the bones beginning to crack under the intense pressure.
With a simple sweeping kick aimed at their lower legs, their target brought them down to their knees and at the mercy of Kal-el.
But as they knelt there, at the mercy of a man, they did not meet death as they presumed they would.
Instead, the master of the league just held them there, without budging, but not doing anything to finish them as well.
The mercenaries had underestimated his opponent.
They had always faced men, never demigods capable of shattering steel with bare hands. However, despite their mistake, it didn't seem like they would pay for it.
At least not now.
Then, with a swift punch directed right where their hearts were, he created a powerful reverberating kinetic force through his body that broke their armor, caused chaos for their blood circulation and broke some of their ribs.
Breathing suddenly became a toil for them.
When the man let go of them, they fell, but before they lost consciousness, he whistled, a high-pitched noise that drawn everyone of his underlinings to his location.
Whatever might be their destiny, the mercenaries were sure it would be really unpleasant.
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(17/09/2020)
*Hope this chapter is of your liking. Anything you wish to ask, feel free to do so.
I'm almost finished writing an update chapter. In that auxiliary chapter, I plan to address some of my plans for the future of this story.
Thanks as always for your attention and please be safe.
Any problems with my writing, just point them out and I will correct them as soon as possible.
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