Gotham suburbs, deep underground, two o'clock in the morning.
Batman watched an interview on the massive display, a slight frown creasing his face.
He had removed his helmet, revealing a handsome yet resolute young man beneath the mask—his expression carrying a weariness beyond his years.
Bruce Wayne, the son of Gotham, possessed wealth beyond measure. Yet no one knew he was secretly a masked vigilante, capable of scaling walls and rooftops under the cover of night.
The interests of the wealthy were always peculiar—some collected cars, others watches; some loved golf, some learned foreign languages, and others sought thrills by conquering peaks.
So it wasn't too strange for a rich young man to have a habit of sneaking out in the dead of night, donning a bat-eared mask, and beating up criminals.
This was the Batcave.
The natural cavern beneath Wayne Manor had existed since Bruce's childhood and had been repurposed into Batman's lair.
Though it lacked the planes, cannons, and flashy vehicles of later years, it was already taking shape as the legendary Batcave.
Alfred, the butler, dressed impeccably in a black suit with bowtie, climbed down a hanging ladder from a steep wall, carefully balancing a silver tray with a domed lid.
Upon reaching the floor, he straightened his clothes and said dryly, "Don't worry, Master. These old bones still manage ladders just fine—even with a serving tray. No assistance needed."
Bruce kept his eyes on the computer, not looking up. "I'm planning to install a proper staircase. The secret door will open directly into the study."
Alfred approached quietly.
On the screen was a brief, blurry recording taken from the Batman suit's built-in camera.
Liam watched as the mysterious figure fired the devastating shot that turned the bat demon to dust.
"Very impressive," Alfred said, setting the tray down carefully. "Looks like some kind of cutting-edge technology."
"No known single-person weapon has that kind of power—at least none I'm aware of yet," Bruce said. "The Batcomputer analyzed the energy signature. The impact reached temperatures above one hundred thousand degrees."
Alfred raised an eyebrow. "That's… quite hot."
In fact, this was still a limited restoration of the light energy cannon by Liam, constrained by current materials and tech.
According to standard Spacium Ray settings, a temperature of five hundred thousand degrees is considered optimal.
"That's not the main point. Temperature is incidental," Bruce explained. "What makes that beam truly lethal is its unknown energy output method—completely outside known science.
"More importantly, spectral analysis detected elements unknown on Earth—some alien substances."
"Aliens, sir?" Alfred asked cautiously.
"Or at least alien technology. The possibility of extraterrestrials cannot be ruled out."
Bruce switched the screen to the moment after the beam was fired.
When the dust settled, the black-clad figure who fired the shot had vanished.
"I don't understand. Where did he go?" Alfred asked.
"Super speed," Bruce said. "Too fast for the human eye. He has powerful technology and extraordinary abilities.
"It's very likely he's an alien."
"We know nothing about his identity, origin, strength, or tech. He's a highly dangerous individual."
"Do I need to remind you, Master, this 'dangerous individual' just saved your life?" Alfred said dryly.
"Technically, yes. But not necessarily on purpose. Perhaps he was hunting, and his target happened to be what attacked me."
"I regret you didn't inherit optimism from the Wayne ancestors," Alfred teased.
Bruce stood, putting his helmet back on.
"I call it preparing for a rainy day. This is completely unknown to humanity, Alfred. We must be ready for any sudden threat."
"Going out, sir?" Alfred gestured to the tray he had placed down. "Don't you want to eat first?"
"Wait a moment. The intel for this mission was insufficient. I was careless."
"Maroni is clearly linked to that abnormal creature—it makes him more dangerous than I expected. I need to find out more, quickly."
"That's unfortunate." Alfred lifted the silver lid, revealing an empty plate beneath.
"I went to the trouble of preparing tonight's dinner, 'Roasted Empty Plate,'" he said dryly. "All wasted."
Bruce was silent.
Alfred shrugged, helplessly. "I knew you wouldn't eat."
"When I return, you can make whatever breakfast you want," Bruce said softly, a hint of apology in his voice.
"That's not necessary." Alfred picked up the tray again and climbed the ladder.
"I'll be satisfied if your breakfast isn't an IV drip, Master."
---
Elsewhere, in a dark void.
A shadow darted like a fish through the darkness, speeding deeper into the blackness.
It billowed like mist from the ground, solidifying into a vague, shifting form.
"Demon Spirit Kres is dead," it said in a muffled, strange voice that echoed endlessly.
Moments later, a second mist appeared, descending like a waterfall.
It morphed into a tall, twisted grotesque shadow near the first.
"I told you—the plan to collect sacrifices from wicked humans is unreliable..."
It paused. "What happened? Did the wizard discover us?"
"No, not a wizard," the first shadow said hesitantly. "Something else. Human, but with dangerous means."
"Human?" The tall shadow sneered. "Anyone who blocks our path and hinders the master's revival will die."
The dark shadow looked at it oddly.
"You didn't see that man fire. If you had, you wouldn't be asking such foolish questions."
"Very strong?" the tall shadow asked suspiciously.
"It's not about strength. He's a very special kind."
The shadow pondered. "Let's just say this: you didn't see him. If I had acted then, I would have died too."
"..."
The tall shadow thought a moment.
"Forget it. Our plan can't afford distractions. Focus on the seal."
The dark shadow nodded eagerly. "That's exactly what I was thinking."
"The wizard's power is weak now, unable to stop us. The seal is about to be lifted. The day of return is near."
The tall shadow's voice rose.
"When the Great One returns..."
"…This world will be ours!"