Disclaimer: I do not own the rights for any of the preexisting characters. This novel is made merely for entertainment purposes.
...
"Welcome to The Bureau, child. We are the sentinels of the known Omniverse."
Looking at the old British-butler-looking guy bowing down, Damian's thoughts raced a million miles a second, trying to think of any information he may have about this so-called 'Bureau'–but much to his frustration–nothing came to mind.
Giving up on his mind search, but not letting his guard down, he asked warily: "Okay, that's cool and all, but the name doesn't really ring any bells. Mind elaborating a bit more?"
Smiling at his demeanor, the man elaborated. "Of course you haven't heard of us, child. Many have met us in the past, few have lived to tell the tale," making a dramatic pause and adding more fuel to Damian's paranoia, he resumed with a smile. "Even fewer have ever encountered us on good terms, lucky for you, that's the case this time around."
Deciding to test the man's words, he purposefully taunted. "Tsk, what's with you old coots and never giving straight answers. Is it a thing of age or do only the weirdos with powers survive this lifestyle long enough to become senile?"
Gazing at Damian as though an elder looking at a misbehaving child, he shaked his head while sighing–though Damian could've sworn he saw his eyebrow twitch for a second. "Your proving is unnecessary child, we genuinely hold no ill will towards you, otherwise-"
Suddenly, in the time it took Damian to blink, the old man appeared inches away from him. One hand behind his back while the other extended forward, breaking his sturdiest barrier with the ease you'd see from someone swatting a fly.
As the hand approached his face, Damian could vividly feel all his senses screaming, feeling the edge of death on his neck. Should the hand land, he was dead.
In complete desperation, his survival instincts kicked in, taking control of him.
The nexus in his mind space blasted open while one of the nurturing capsules was violently torn apart by an invisible hand, the data set inside dissolving onto the 'air' in a fraction of a second. Almost instantly after, he disappeared from his spot to reappear at one of the edges of the room. And immediately after, he tumbled down on his knees. His nose, ears and eyes bleeding by the violent assimilation process, the worst headache of his life kicking in as his vision and hearing blurred.
"You would've already been dea-Hmm?" As the man tried to finish his warning, his eyes widened at the fact that Damian had broken his restrictions on spatial manipulation, if just for a fraction of a second.
Sure, he may have not been able to escape the barriers of this room, but the mere act of escaping the old monster's authority was a feat well beyond Damian's current capabilities.
"What a little monster."
Then, without warning, the wall next to the half-conscious Damian shifted. A seam split across the smooth white wall as the polished doors of an elevator materialized. A subtle chime rang, as if mocking the tension in the room.
And when the doors opened, a man that Damian would recognize in an instant walked out.
Broad shoulders. The weight of years carved into his face, tainting his hair and beard gray. A brooding silhouette cloaked in shadow, though here he wore neither cape nor cowl. Instead, the older Bruce Wayne walked with the same precision Damian had seen in the stories of his first life. Yet this one was grayer, his aura even more hardened, scarred by something a Batman was never supposed to be tainted by. in a matte black metallic supersuit he walked out, taking a second to look at both men, he spoke in a deep voice. "What happened, Kaleonor?"
Giving a deep bow to the man, Kaleonor answered promptly. "I am terribly sorry, Branch Manager Wayne. I tried to explain to our guest who we were and that we hold no ill intent towards him. Yet seeing as he wouldn't budge from his battle stance, I tried to show him the difference in power between us to make him understand that we have no need to deceive him," taking a pause as if unsure of his own words, he said. "I never imagined that his current self would've been capable of escaping my spatial restrictions. His state is the result of that."
Listening to the old man's explanation, the brooding man in black almost had a change in his perpetual scowl, almost.
Taking a pill out of his utility belt, he grabbed Damian's head and pried his mouth open, making him swallow the pill before releasing him. Almost immediately, his bleeding stopped as clarity slowly crept back to his eyes.
The headache of Damian receded just enough to hear Eva's concerned voice asking if he was okay. Giving a short confirmation for her reassurance, he focused back on the man that had just let him fall to the ground again.
Still, looking at the man who had presumably just helped him, his throbbing headache came back at seeing that visage and suit. Even if he had only seen the man through comic drawings, even if he looked much older than his classical counterpart; the costume, the factions and that voice were dead giveaways to the man's identity.
'Fuck me sideways. What in the fuck is Batman of all people doing here.'
[It's impossible to tell right now, but his energy signature is at least 90% similar to the data set you absorbed of him.] Eva chimed in.
Before Damian could speculate any further, he heard Bruce's voice. "Follow me, kid. We need to talk," and without waiting for any response, he turned around and walked back to the elevator.
Standing up, his legs had a hard time remaining firm, but he managed to walk slowly to the elevator, resigned to the fact that whatever was going on, escaping this place was currently out of his means.
Still, he gave one last look at the still bowing old man as the elevator door closed, committing his face to memory.
Silence was all there was on the ride to wherever the elevator was going, but Damian was no stranger to the Bat's style, either this was an intimidation tactic or Wayne simply didn't feel like talking until they reached their destination, both options were fine with him as he dearly needed time to recuperate.
After a couple minutes of Damian and Eva analyzing what had happened to him and what were the possible damages, he was relieved to find out that whatever drug he was fed had prevented the worst possible outcome. Though his body still ached from the strain of forced assimilation in such a short amount of time.
Interrupting his internal back and forth, the elevator doors opened again, and what greeted Damian was an unexpected change in a familiar setting.
It was an office, yes. But it felt more like a sanctum carved from shadow and memory. Rock walls, computer banks, relics of battles long past. The Batcave, rebuilt in spirit.
"Take a seat," Bruce said, gesturing toward a heavy chair across from his desk.
Damian sat, wary, while Batman pulled a worn folder from a stack. He flipped it open with deliberate slowness.
Seeing where this was going already, Damian didn't leave room for Bruce to craft the atmosphere on his own terms. "Well, here I am. What do we need to talk about so badly for Batman of all people to kidnap an innocent man?"
Yet after he finished his words, the room turned dead silent.
Maybe it was the force of habit, maybe he thought Damian would crack under the silent pressure, but Bruce remained silent for what felt like minutes. Though, seeing no change in Damian's expression, no accelerated heartbeat, no involuntary body signals of nervousness–just a stare competition that neither of them seemed bothered by–the Bat finally opened his mouth.
"Damian Rossi. Born in Bayside, New York. August 14th, 1994," making a pause for what Damian believed were dramatic purposes, he continued. "Raised in an upper-middle class family, mother was a freelance artist born in Ciudad de Cordoba, Argentina. Father was an undercover S.H.I.E.L.D operative born in Brownsville, Brooklyn. Both passed away in a plane accident."
Then Bruce took another brief pause, expecting the teenager in front of him to have some type of reaction, but he was met with nothing but the same languid eyes, as if he already expected this.
'I won't be playing your games, Batsy.' He thought.
[What games?] Asked Eva, seemingly unable to catch up to speed with all the unexpected events.
'Oh, yeah. I forget that you haven't seen all my past life's memories. The man in front of us is called Bruce Wayne, the bona fide DC hero and part of the 'DC Trinity' next to Supes and Wonder Woman–or one of his versions, at least–as well as the adoptive father of the first man whose data set I've absorbed. He's a much too sharp individual and one of the greatest detectives alive, when on duty, every one of his words are measured and with purpose–him reading what I assume is my file and bringing up my parents death is probably just to unsettle me emotionally.'
[Don't sound much like a hero's tactic to me.] Commented Eva, already annoyed at thinking how this conversation will unfold.
'Well, yeah. He can be pretty unorthodox with his methods, as long as it doesn't involve killing. And him looking much older than I remember can only mean he has only gotten wiser. Haa, this is gonna be a pain in the ass.' He explained verbally as he shared his memories of one of the greatest heroes in his former world's stories through their mental link as he was still at 100% mode.
Thankfully the mental back and forth of Damian and Eva occurs much faster than any spoken conversation could, so they had time to exchange ideas in the brief pause Bruce took.
"Brought under the guardianship of your father's former colleague and friend. Natalia Alianovna Romanova, codename: Black Widow. A normal kid wrapped in abnormal circumstances."
Taking a moment before resuming his spiel, Bruce spoke: "Well, not so normal seeing as you are here."
Giving a fake yawn, Damian commented. "Seems the greatest detective alive has a sorely incomplete file of his target. Did getting older make you duller, Mr. Wayne?"
And all he got in kind was silence and the same unchanging expression. "Your file does seem incomplete. It seems like someone is protecting you from prying eyes."
For the first time, Damian had a change in expression. Rising an eyebrow, he pondered both the forthcomingness of this Batman and his words themselves. 'Protection huh? Is it old man Yao? But it is unlikely he can shield me from an organization of this size.'
[He probably has been shielding you, but not from this 'Bureau'.] Said Eva.
'Hm? You mean the Professor? I figure as much after having awakened for months and not having baldy come give me a Ted talk recruitment. I really need to steal that clairvoyance spell of his.'
"What can I say, a lot of powerful people seem to be interested in me nowadays," he said, and the double meaning for the current situation didn't escape Batman's wit, but he still chose to remain silent. "So, what do I owe the 'pleasure' of this sudden 'invitation', if you don't mind me asking, Mr. Wayne–and please be honest, I know your methods more than you think, your words can't rattle me."
Now it was the time for Bruce to have a flicker of something crossing his eyes. Interest. Recognition. "You're sharper than expected," he said as he closed the folder and folded his hands. "Good. That saves us both time."
Damian leaned back, seemingly getting comfortable in his chair, his eyes gleaming with a 'continue' as he awaited for Bruce to talk. That's when Wayne noticed how the conversation subtly shifted in his favor.
'Interesting.' He thought.
Bruce's voice dropped into a business-like gravity. "A deal. When the time comes–and it will–the main DC universe will face disasters that could prove beyond its own capacity, I myself am proof of that. When that happens, I want you there. Not as a savior, not as a replacement. But as reinforcement. You only need to intervene if the native heroes can't win alone. That's the line."
Damian's brows furrowed. "And why can't you do that yourself? If one Batman can't resolve it, I'd think two will do the job just fine."
Bruce's eyes darkened, the weight of decades in them. "Because I'm with the Bureau now. And the Bureau's law is clear: we officers don't interfere with the universes we oversee unless an external multiversal threat is involved. I'm forbidden from acting. But you're not."
"Isn't your job to prevent me from doing exactly that though?" Asked Damian in confusion.
With the same tone, Bruce answered. "Not exactly, no. We only intervene if you become a threat to the balance of the universe you travel to."
Damian studied him, suspicion and curiosity at odds in his head. "So if I help you… what's in it for me?"
Although Damian was tempted to accept solely for the novelty of going to the DC universe for the factor of meeting and helping all his favorite heroes, he had enough on his plate with the looming disasters in his home Universe already.
As if waiting for this question, which he probably did, Batman didn't hesitate. "You'll gain time and my help. Using my authority I can build you backgrounds, identities–so you can integrate into other universes seamlessly. I can also interfere with the time between universes, letting you stay for extended periods of time on other universes without losing the same time on your native universe."
This time, the nonchalant visage of Damian's cracked for a second, his eyes widening at what the proposal entailed. "How is that even possible? I've trained on the aspect of time before, understanding it is already hard enough, let alone controlling the time of whole universes."
Taking a moment to let the words hang in the air, Bruce decided to answer Damian's question as a sign of good will. "It is not my doing. My authority as a Branch Manager is not enough for doing so."
"Then how?" Damian asked.
"Because it's you." Bruce spoke, but this only confused Damian further.
"The Bureau is an organization with power beyond your current understanding, and our director is powerful enough to command the respect from most pinnacle entities of the omniverse, the One Above All is no exception to this."
And for the second time, Damian's eyes widened, though this time he didn't make an effort to disguise his surprise.
Seeing this, Bruce continued. "We have treaties with every overlord of each multiverse. But naturally, it falls on lower level entities on each side to maintain communications."
"I fail to see how this involves me specifically." Commented Damian with a pensive expression, mulling over all this completely new information.
"Here is the main point. In the case of your multiverse, the main authorities of the multiverse rotate in the role of mediator, though they use their own mediators themselves to do this. The In-Betweener for Master Order and Lord Chaos, Preordained for The Living Tribunal and Oblivion and Continuum for Eternity and Infinity. Prior to your arrival, Continuum visited our branch by order of Eternity and Infinity, it is them that have made this option possible." Explained the bat as if it was the most normal thing to say.
Feeling a headache coming, Damian was massaging his temples as he heard Eva. [Oh. We are fucking cooked.]
'I'm going to go fucking insane. Of course the abstracts have to know I fucking exist… Haa, let's just hope the strings attached to this favor does not drag us down into the damn abyss.'
Taking a deep breath, Damian closed his eyes as he asked, his tone a notch more irritated. "Anything else I should know?"
As his perception of space wasn't as detailed as his eyes, Damian didn't notice the flicker of amusement behind the eyes of Bruce, even if his face remained as still as a statue's. "The last condition is that I'll train you. Personally. Until our deal is done."
This made Damian perk up as he looked at Batman in the eyes. Gaving a pause, he had to admit this was almost as appealing as the second perk of the deal. The thought of being trained by Batman was tempting to the current him. But he didn't fold immediately.
"No offense, but this sounds way too good to be that simple. What's the catch?"
Bruce leaned forward, his voice taking the intimidating tone he had used some many times before. "You keep yourself in check. No going overboard. If you take, you give back. No unchecked destruction. The Bureau tolerates your existence because you haven't broken our code yet. Do it, and even I won't save you."
For a long moment, Damian said nothing.
Then, finally, he exhaled, a slow smile tugging at his lips. 'Oh fuck it. We on the dancefloor already, might as well.'
"Fine. You've got a deal."
Bruce's expression didn't change, but the faintest nod confirmed his satisfaction. Then he stood from his chair without ceremony. The dim light from the cave's false stalactites carved deep lines into his weathered face, making him seem even more batman-like.
"Then we start now," he said. "You'd better be ready."
Without waiting for a reply, he crossed the office toward a reinforced door. Damian noticed how deliberate his steps were, no wasted energy, no excess sound.
Damian rose, brushing faint dust from his hands, and fell into step behind him. "Start what? If you're asking me to jump head first into a crisis already, I'm asking for a reimbursement."
Bruce ignored Damian's antics as he keyed a panel hidden within the wall. The door hissed open, revealing a long corridor of black alloy. His answer came curt, like a blade striking stone.
"My end of the deal. I'll assess your capabilities for direct combat."
They walked in silence until the corridor widened into a chamber that could only be described as a hybrid between a training hall and a war room: reinforced walls, modular terrain pieces, weapon racks lining one side, and an observation console above. The starkness of the room was suffocating, yet purposeful–every inch designed to expose weakness.
Whistling in Damian's head, Eva commented. [Damn, this Batman either has too much room in his office or he was really confident that you'd say yes.]
'Knowing what I know of Batman, he'd probably had this room built a long time ago, if paranoia was a person it'd be standing right in front of us.'
[Look who's talking. Need I remind you of your future plans?] She quipped.
'Touché mon amour.' Was all he could respond.
Bruce stepped inside first, then turned, his sharp gaze raking over Damian. "Your movements are unusual."
Damian arched a brow. "How so?"
Bruce folded his arms, his tone flat but precise. "You move like a man who was trained in combat… yet it's awkward. Like you're imitating techniques you've committed to memory, not ones you've bled into your muscles."
Damian froze for half a second. His muscles tensed. Both Eva and himself were as unnerved at Bruce's gaze as they were at the possibilities that came with his words. It took a fraction of a second to understand what he was hinting at.
He'd been arrogant.
He thought assimilating the body of Nightwing alongside his combat knowledge as well as the combat experience of Luther Strode would've been enough to start, he had only been training the other aspects of his powers, to train his body he had merely been training on the hercules method while disregarding any practice of his actual combat moves.
This innocuous problem could've been his undoing if he had jumped directly into fighting anyone worth their salt. And that thought almost made his stomach tighten.
Bruce's words cut too cleanly to be dismissed. The accuracy was uncanny, terrifying even. No one else had ever pointed it out. Not the Ancient One. Not Wong. Not Natasha. To them, Damian's motions seemed competent, sharp even. But Bruce had pierced the illusion within seconds.
Damian swallowed, forcing composure. "You can tell that… just from watching me walk?"
Bruce's eyes narrowed, unreadable beneath the weight of decades. "It's what I do. You've studied the language of combat, but you don't speak it. Not yet. That gap will get you killed against someone who does."
Eva murmured something about thanking the gods that they had been brought here before anything and for the first time, Damian felt an unfamiliar dissonance vibrate in his chest.
He had the knowledge; every punch, every throw, every counter, all etched in his mind. But Bruce was right. His body had never truly spoken that language. And here, under the scrutiny of the world's greatest detective, that truth was laid bare.
The steel floor of the training room gleamed faintly under the overhead lights. Bruce stood at the center, his posture relaxed yet coiled, like a predator conserving energy. Waiting for its prey.
"Ready?" he asked flatly.
Damian nodded, setting his stance. His body buzzed with nerves, but he forced them down. 'Haa, this is gonna hurt, isn't it?'
The moment the thought crossed his mind, Bruce lunged. A simple jab, no flourish, yet Damian barely managed to tilt his head aside before a gauntleted fist brushed past his cheek.
"You hesitated," Bruce said, already moving into a low sweep. Damian jumped, twisting into what should have been a counter-strike, but Bruce's palm hammered into his sternum, sending him sprawling.
Damian coughed, rolling to his knees. Bruce was already circling. "You saw the move, but your body responded a second too late. That's worse than not seeing it at all–it convinces you you're safe when you're not."
They clashed again. Damian ducked one punch, but his counter-kick was rigid, telegraphed. Bruce caught his ankle, twisted, and flung him across the mat.
"You're rigid. Too deliberate. Every motion is correct in theory, but misplaced in practice. You fight like a man reading from a manual."
For a second Damian's frustration simmered before he cooled down his thoughts, concentrating solely on the fight and Bruce's words.
For the next fifteen minutes, Bruce dismantled him with surgical precision. Every strike Damian threw was parried, every dodge a hair too late, every counter crushed before it could land. Bruce's voice never rose, never mocked. It remained steady, a clinical dissection of Damian's mistakes.
"Your pivot is half a second late." Crack–a blow to Damian's ribs.
"Your guard drops after every cross." Thud–a palm to the jaw.
"You react as if you already know what I'll do. But that's not instinct. That's calculation. And calculation gets you killed when timing is life or death."
By the sixteenth minute, Damian was on one knee, sweat blinding his eyes, his arms covered in bruises that bloomed darker with every failed attempt. But beneath the exhaustion, something clicked.
He stopped chasing the shadows in his memory. Stopped trying to replicate what he remembered. Instead, he adjusted–just slightly. A pivot flowed smoother. A dodge carried him an inch further from Bruce's fist. A counterpunch landed closer to target before being deflected.
Bruce noticed. He always noticed. But he didn't comment. He simply pressed harder.
At twenty minutes, Damian's breathing was ragged, but his body no longer flailed so badly. His movements were starting to flow together, his mind, memory, and muscle syncing one step at a time.
At twenty-five, his dodges grew sharper, his strikes tighter. Each failed motion corrected itself faster than the last, the feedback loop fastening with uncanny speed.
At the thirty-minute mark, Damian stood across from Bruce again, chest heaving, sweat dripping into his eyes, but his stance was different.
Less stiff. More alive. Every part of him screamed with pain, but he no longer looked like a boy imitating a warrior. He looked like someone beginning–just beginning–to fight like one.
Bruce straightened slightly, unreadable behind his mask of composure. Outwardly, he gave nothing. But inwardly, a thought passed through his mind: 'Unnatural adaptation rate. He's learning faster than anyone I've trained.'
He didn't say it. He only gave a curt nod, then raised his fists again.
"Again."
…
After a full hour of hardcore sparring was up, Damian was sprawled on the floor, heaving as he was covered in sweat and bruises throughout his whole body. On the other hand, Batman looked the same as when Damian first saw him, not a hair out of place.
"Take this," said Bruce as he threw a pill identical to the one he shoved down Damian's throat more than an hour ago. "It will heal you. Rest until you feel recuperated before moving again, we are done for today. Come back once you are done with your business."
Catching the pill and groaning at the pain of his probably broken ribs rattling, he swallowed the pill and this time he could feel its effects vividly thanks to not being half dead.
It was marvelous, as he analyzed his own body externally and internally with the help of Eva's x-ray vision he could see how the pill accelerated his healing process tremendously, processes that normally take days to months happened in a matter of seconds. The craziest part was that this pill consumed almost no energy from the body to accelerate the healing.
'How fascinating, this feels like one of those xianxia alchemy pills.' Commented Damian.
[You gotta ask him for the recipe later, if he makes those himself maybe we can count this as part of his training.] Murmured Eva as she analyzed the effects of the medicinal pill.
'Yeah, maybe later. Right now all I want is to take a nap, who'd have known getting your ass surgically whooped for an hour would be so tiring,' he said sarcastically as he yawned and casted a simple spell for cleansing his body of dirt and grime with water while drying himself with the help of the wind.
'Thank fucking god I can do magic,' were his last thoughts as he drifted to sleep on the floor of the training room with absolutely no care in the world.
…
As his eyes fluttered open, Damian almost reflexively kicked the person in front of him by reflect, which was understandable seeing as the first thing he saw after waking up was an old looking butler instead of the usual beautiful redhead next to him.
"Good evening, Sir Rossi," said Kaleodor.
A nod was all he got in response as Damian stood up and dusted himself off with some wind magic, thankfully his magic worked just the same in here, even if he couldn't hear the voices of the elements anymore. It didn't feel like they refused to communicate with him, but rather there was no one to communicate with, a weird feeling after a month of non-stop communication with these conceptual beings.
Undeterred by the lack of words from Damian, Kaleodor once more bowed down at him while speaking in the same cordial tone. "I did not have the opportunity of apologizing before due to the circumstances. So let me express it properly, I offer my most since apologies, Sir Damian. It was not my intention for things to get out of hand in the way they di-"
Before he could continue his spiel, Damian cut him off in between yawns and stretches. "Yeah, yeah. No hard feelings, man. Save yourself the excuses, my deal with Bruce is more than enough compensation for almost dying so I don't really care."
And he meant it. Admittedly, Damian was not one to hold grudges against accidental fuck ups. Looking back on it, he had not felt an intent to kill from Kaleodor, but taking into account his inexperience with real fights and how the blow had come so close to him, his body had acted on its own. Damian was even a bit grateful to the old butler, taking this as a learning experience more than a slight.
"Anyways, what brings you here?" He asked while cracking his neck, the echoes of the pain he had gone through still roaming his body.
"I was tasked by Branch Manager Wayne to coordinate the details of your 'background settings' for your next destination," he said as he snapped his fingers, making them both appear in a different room.
The room followed the esthetic style of the reception hall where he had first arrived, white walls and white marble pillars stood at the sides with some black matte metal shelves filled with equally black boxes, the only difference was that all the boxes had a sort of slot in the middle. Some of those box slots were plugged to cables that converged to the middle of a room.
There, a circular human sized black metal ring was connected to a metal circular dais where all the cables connected to. Lastly, something that resembled a computer, judging by the multiple holographic screens and the keyboard, stood meters from the ring.
Damian would've felt curious for all the conspicuous items in the room if he didn't feel so unnerved at the ease in which Kaleodor teleported them without him even noticing the fluctuations in space.
"Guess you don't got your job due to nepotism." He joked.
"This is but a simple trick, Sir. One you'll inevitably understand when you become stronger," explained Kaleodor.
Walking to the computer, he asked Damian: "Now if you'd be so kind, please explain where is it that you plan to go and what identity you wish to have. Though we can't make identities too closely related to the important beings of the universe you'll go to, it shouldn't be a problem to create a normal identity for you."
Thinking for a moment, Damian made a last second adjustment to his plans after taking into account the new leeway he has time-wise with the intervention of Eternity and Infinity and instructed Kaleodor on what to input for his destination and background.
Once that was done, Kaleodor pressed one last button of the keyboard, making the room come alive. First were the boxes, the seams of the place where slot and cable fused illuminated briefly as Damian could feel an alien but potent type of energy run through thick cables. Then the rune-looking etching on the ring, or portal as Kaleodor had explained briefly, was lit ablaze. The portal hummed with energy before the interior of the circle was filled by a film of pale blue energy.
As Damian appreciated the optics of the process he heard Kaleodor's voice. "Before you go, Sir Rossi. Here," as Damian turned to look at him, Kaleodor extended both hands, one holding a sleek black rectangular gadget while the other held a silver ring etched with runes.
Grabbing the rectangular gadget, he asked. "And these are?"
Hearing the expected question, the butler looking man answered. "That is an imitation of the Link Card of the Bureau, made by Sir Wayne. It allows you to communicate with us via messages or calls, if the moment allows it, it also has tools to analyze any object by comparing it with the database of the Bureau, though the access is limited to basic level information, I hope you don't mind. Lastly, it also possesses basic tools for miscellaneous uses, for the details you can consult the beginners guide that pops as soon as you power the device," said Kaleodor as he pointed at how to power the Link Card.
[Thinking the same as me?]
'We are definitively reverse-engeniering this as soon as Ichiro's assimilation is done,' said Damian.
[Yep.] responded Eva, with an extra 'pop' in the p.
Although impressed by this piece of technology inwardly, outwardly Damian merely raised one eyebrow, saying: "Neat," before looking at Kaleodor's other hand. "And the ring?"
"A gift from me, a token of apology if you will," said Kaleodor, and before Damian could say it wasn't necessary, the man explained. "Though briefly, I've seen your talent for spatial manipulation. However, your handling of it is still crude."
Shrugging his shoulders, Damian said. "Well, not an excuse but I've only had this ability for the last two months."
Hearing that, Kaleodor as awed as he felt unnerved, Damian might have not grasped the intricacies of what had happened in their first 'confrontation', but Kaleodor knew too well how absurd it was for someone akin to a newborn in terms of spatial manipulation to break away from his restrictions on space, no matter how purposefully easy going he had been at the time.
"All the more reason that you should have it, Sir. This ring is an artifact I used in my younger days when I was still a novice. The artifact enhances your control over the surrounding space as well as enhancing your sensitivity to the changes in space around you," said the old man while looking at the ring fondly. "But I've long outgrown its use, so now it's merely a keepsake."
Hearing the full explanation about the artifact, Damian felt tempted to grab it, yet he first asked. "Are you sure you wish to give that away, it sounds like a rather valuable object in terms of sentimentality."
"Of course, Sir. I'd much rather have this artifact aiding your growth than leave it to accumulate dust on top of a shelf. And something tells me you are not the type of person to misuse such an artifact," he said with the same kind smile.
"Haa, now I'd feel bad if I were to refuse, you know. Might as well do you the favor," said Damian with a joking tone as he grabbed the ring before putting it on his right hand, opposite from the hand that usually holds his sling ring.
"Well then, I'll get going. Wish me luck, old man Kale."
Feeling amused at the way Damian referred to him, he gave a small bow as he spoke. "But of course, Sir. I wish you the best of luck in your journey. We will be awaiting your return."
Without looking back, Damian waved the hand with the ring as a goodbye as he walked through the portal.
…
As Damian stepped through the portal, he was greeted by a truly mesmerizing view. A clean beach at the break of dawn, as the first rays of the sun grazed the sea, tainting the water that met the sand at shore with a golden tint. Here he allowed himself to be immersed in the tranquil atmosphere, his presence perfectly blending with the surroundings.
"WAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH!"
Though this mesmerizing atmosphere was shortly broken by a green-haired youth screaming at the top of his lungs.
Wincing, he murmured to Eva. 'Yeesh, and you say I overdo it sometimes.'
[Well, I judge you based on normal human standards, not anime human standards,] she rebuked.
'Fair enough,' he acquiesced.
Looking at the scene of a shirtless teenager being held in the arms of a more than 2 metres tall (7'3) behemoth of a man would've been weird…-er if not for Damian knowing the relationship between the two.
'Still, my presence might be almost non-existent for most humans, but for All Might to not be able to immediately notice me, has he been weakened that much or is he too absorbed in the moment?' He wondered in his mind. 'Also, I know I asked Kaleodor to send me to the day of the entrance test as a 1st year testee but why the fuck am I here of all places. I swear all these old fucks have the mischief of a goddamn i'll behaved toddler.'
[Well, this can work too if you play it out right, he probably thought that when he decided to send you here.]
'Yeah, and it pisses me off that he's not wron-' interrupting his conversation with Eva, Damian's inherited combat precognition saw it first. Then, he suddenly felt an overwhelming intent locking onto him. Blinking once was all it took for a blonde giant to suddenly be standing in front of him.
Yet knowing who was in front of him he forcibly restrained the impulses ingrained into his psyche and body, not wanting to repeat a Kaleodor situation, even if the man in front of him would never take it that far, probably.
'Ah, that's the anime Superman for you,' was all he could think before he heard his deep, bass-baritone voice. "Young man… what might you be doing here?"
Damian blinked once, tilted his head, and tried to lighten the mood. "…Enjoying the morning breeze?"
All Might didn't move. His eyes, serious despite the smile, studied him.
Izuku, startled by the sudden shift, ran up, panting. "A-All Might? W-who's-?!" His eyes widened as he spotted Damian standing there, so dangerously close to him and All Might.
All Might cut in, his voice stern. "You've been here for some time, haven't you? Tell me… did you hear my conversation with Midoriya?"
Damian opened his mouth, trying to smirk, purposely failing to do so. "Nope. Not a word. Just figured you were confessing your skincare routine."
Silence. All Might didn't even blink while Midoriya's face turned a dangerous shade of red.
Damian sighed. 'So much for levity.' His shoulders relaxed, and his tone dropped to a casual, almost too casual one: "…Fine. Yeah. I heard it. All of it."
Izuku flailed his arms in panic, voice breaking. "W-wait! He-he must be mistaken, r-right?!"
Damian ignored him, eyes still on All Might. "I know you're making him your successor. The next bearer of One For All."
Both froze. Midoriya's jaw hit the floor. All Might's aura sharpened like a blade.
Damian shrugged, spinning lies mixed with half truths seamlessly. "Relax. I didn't read your diary. I saw you save him and that explosive blonde idiot ten months ago. You remember? When Midoriya clung to your leg midair? Funny moment, by the way. I decided to follow you two. Curiosity, amusement, call it what you may. And ever since, I've… dropped in from time to time. Watching this dork train quietly before leaving."
Izuku's head snapped between them. "Y-y-you were spying on us?!"
All Might's jaw tightened. "And how is it that I never noticed?"
Damian smirked faintly. "Don't beat yourself over it, not many people–if any–can do what I did. It has to do with my 'quirk'. I can do a lot of things with it like erase my presence. Makes me hard to notice… unless you're really looking and already know what you're looking for."
[Technically true, but hey! I don't do that, you do.] Eva sarcastically commented.
Damian lifted his hand in a small gesture, palm open. "Look, no need for panicking. I'm not selling this to the press. I respect you too much to do that, All Might. You've been one of my favorite heroes for a long time. So the secret's safe."
All Might's eyes softened just slightly. Midoriya, however, stammered, "B-but-but why admit it now?!"
Damian's smile sharpened. "Because he kinda caught me red-handed. And also because I want something in return."
All Might straightened, shoulders tense again. "…And that is?"
Damian turned, finally looking at Midoriya. His eyes narrowed, words blunt as knives. "I don't like you."
The boy froze. "W-what?!"
"You accepted to be in this position. It was your choice to become the next symbol of peace, and look at you; You're crying all the damn time. You overthink it all. You're pessimistic to the point of being depressing to watch."
Damian's tone was matter-of-fact, no malice, just brutal honesty. "But…" His gaze softened a fraction. 'I used to think that back in the day, now I just feel pity for the burden you carry on your small shoulders, kid.' "…you've got something most people don't. A heart that runs straight into danger when it matters. The heart of a hero. That much, I respect."
'And I…'
Being able to notice the dark thoughts in Damian's mind, Eva spoke with encouragement in her tone. [Don't be so hard on yourself, Damian. You are already doing plenty enough,] she said, understanding how much Damian envied the purity of heart these two in front of them had. As he could never be as selfless and self-sacrificing as these two.
Though he didn't feel like that was necessarily a bad thing, evident by the fact that he purposefully excluded those traits from all the hero's data sets he had absorbed, yet a childish part of him really wished he could have the so-called 'heart of a hero.'
Izuku swallowed hard, stunned silent.
Damian stepped closer, tapping Midoriya's chest with a finger. "So here's the deal. I keep your secret. But since I'll be enrolling at U.A. as a fellow first-year I'll help whipping you into proper shape since All Might can't be around to teach you 24/7. If he chose you, then I'll help you become a worthy successor. Someone deserving to be the new Symbol of Peace."
For a beat, silence hung heavy.
Then Midoriya stammered, eyes wide, partly because of Damian's words and partly because he didn't look like a first year student at all. "Y-you–help–ME?!"
All Might studied Damian for a long moment. Then, slowly, he smiled–still cautious, but acknowledging. "You speak boldly, young man. Perhaps… you truly mean it."
Damian only smirked faintly, muttering in his head. 'Boldly, recklessly, same thing.'
[Now you've really signed yourself up,] Eva teased.
'Yeah,' Damian thought, watching Midoriya's stunned expression. 'The least I can do for all the trouble I'll cause them later.'
All Might's question lingered in the air, deep and weighty, like a gavel struck in judgment:
"And why do you think you can help 'whip' young Midoriya into shape?"
For a moment, Damian only smirked. Then, without a word, he tilted his chin upward and began to rise. The soles of his sneakers left the sand, his figure slowly floating into the air as if carried by an invisible tide. A soft breeze followed him, tugging at Midoriya's messy hair and rattling All Might's shirt.
Midoriya's jaw dropped. "All Might! H-he's flying?!"
Damian ignored the outburst. Feeling almost intoxicated at the lack of resistance the world had to his magical manipulation, there was mystical energy–though he assumed it had another name here, if any–yet the aspects lacked a will. If one existed, it was embryonic at best. He drifted toward the waterline, eyes fixed on the horizon. With a smooth, deliberate motion, he drew back his fist.
And then he struck forward.
The air boomed with compressed force, the sea parting like a curtain before a stage. A violent gale ripped outward, sending waves cascading to either side for hundreds of meters. The seabed lay bare in a ragged trench, crabs and shells gleaming in the damp sand before the tide clawed desperately back to fill the void.
Midoriya could only stammer, "Wh-wha-how?!"
All Might's eyes narrowed, impressed despite himself.
Damian, still hovering, lowered his hand casually. He floated back over to them, landing lightly in the sand as if he hadn't just split the ocean. His lips curled into a half-grin.
"In terms of handling overwhelming quirks?" he said, brushing invisible dust from his sleeve. "I'm pretty proficient already. And I'll only get better."
He raised his hand again, mimicking the same punching motion. But this time, instead of a deafening blast, all All Might and Midoriya felt was a light whisper of wind across their cheeks. Controlled. Measured. Deliberate.
Damian tilted his head. "When it comes to physical training, I doubt there's anyone better than me around these parts." His tone sharpened as he bent, plucked up a piece of rusted metal piping half-buried in the sand, and crushed it in his palm like it was paper. The brittle shards mixed with the rust fell in a tinkling rain from his closed palm before the deformed metal fell to the ground as he opened said palm.
Midoriya's breath caught. "He just… squished it like it was nothing…"
"As for pure hand-to-hand combat technique…" Damian let the words linger, a cocky smirk curling across his face, "I don't think I'll lose to aaanyone."
'Y'all may be far ahead in terms of hero training, but you lack so much in terms of pure combat due to your reliance on your quirks,' he analyzed mentally.
And it wasn't just a boast. After even one lesson with the Bat and the unnatural adaptation of Damian, there was probably nobody in this world who could discern exactly how good Damian was from one look like Batman had done.
Now he immersed himself even better with his absorbed knowledge. It showed in the way he stood, the balance in his stance, the rhythm of his breathing. To the untrained eye he was just a cocky teenager, but All Might, All Might saw more; The way he steps, the shifting of his weight, his posture, the alertness hidden in his gaze.
This boy wasn't just confident. He was dangerous. His senses told him that even if he could win against the boy, not many others could say the same, most Pro-heroes included.
For several long seconds, All Might studied him in silence, deliberating. Then, without warning, the towering Symbol of Peace bowed deeply, his broad frame bending with genuine solemnity.
Damian's eyes widened. "W-Woah, hey, what the hell are you-"
"I see your resolve," All Might said firmly, voice carrying even as he bowed. "Then, I'll be burdening you with helping me in young Midoriya's training…" He paused mid-sentence, realizing with a faint awkwardness that he didn't even know this boy's name. "…young man."
The air hung still. Midoriya's eyes were as wide as dinner plates as his arms flayed, his mouth uttering incomprehensible half sentences. Not knowing how to react at All Might bowing down like this.
Caught completely off-guard, Damian hurriedly stepped forward and grabbed at the man's massive shoulders, trying to pull him upright. "H-hey, seriously, no need for all that, man! Get up already!" His tone cracked between embarrassed and exasperated.
All Might straightened again, his presence towering as ever, but the faint smile on his lips betrayed his positive reception of Damian's natural reaction.
[He got you good.] Laughed Eva in his head.
'This is why I can't with these up-right heroes,' he sighed at the overly formal actions of a man that had no need for such humble showings, except for testing his attitude.
Damian sighed, muttering under his breath as if to diffuse the moment. "My name's Damian, by the way."