Chapter 3 – Blood in the Shadows
The silence of the abandoned building was broken by every creak of wood, every drop of water falling from the rusted pipes. Outside, Gotham breathed its usual stench: distant sirens, stray gunfire, muffled screams. Inside, the boy trembled in the gloom.
He crouched behind a pile of broken furniture, fists clenched, teeth grinding to contain the pain burning in his side from the earlier fight. The warmth of his Ki was barely a murmur, a spark in the darkness.
The system hadn't lied. It had delivered the mission with cold precision:
> [New Mission: Defend your hideout.]
But how to defend it? He barely knew how to hold a fighting stance.
Footsteps thundered closer. Three men climbed the stairs. Their boots struck the floor with the rhythm of an execution. The boy held his breath, shrinking deeper into the shadows like a cornered animal.
—"I heard him up here!" —one of them barked, his raspy voice full of mockery.
—"That brat's not getting away this time." —The second chuckled—. "We already gave his family some company… now he'll be the cherry on top."
—"Let's make him scream, boys. Black Mask pays better when he enjoys the show."
The boy swallowed hard, his throat dry. Family… who are they talking about? Confusion twisted in his chest as fiercely as fear. But there was no time for answers.
---
🌑 The rat's strategy
The boy slid carefully among the debris, searching for another way out. The martial arts manual's words whispered in his head: wait for the right moment, don't rush in. He knew if he faced them head-on, he'd die.
He crouched behind a fallen column, struggling to control his breathing. One of the thugs kicked down a door, the crash echoing through the hall.
—"Come out already, brat!" —the man with the bat shouted—. "You've got nowhere to go!"
The boy bit his lip, sweat dripping down his face. He closed his eyes for a moment and searched for that faint heat in his abdomen. There it was, weak, almost imperceptible. His only weapon.
But it didn't last. Eyes locked onto him in the shadows.
—"There he is!" —the knife-wielder roared, charging.
---
⚔️ The first blow
The boy tried to raise his guard, but too slowly. The thug's fist slammed into his face, throwing him against the floor. The metallic taste of blood filled his mouth.
Another blow to the stomach folded him in two, bile spewing from his lips.
—"Is this all you've got?" —the man with the bat sneered, stepping closer—. "Did you really think you could survive in Gotham? Your family couldn't even hack it."
The boy looked up, wide-eyed. He didn't understand, but those words cut deeper than any knife.
The knife-wielder grabbed his hair, forcing him to look up.
—"Look at me, scum. See this?" —he raised the blade, glinting under the dim light—. "This is what I used to slit all their throats. Want to feel it too?"
The boy thrashed, but a knee to the ribs stole his breath.
---
🔥 The resistance
The manual's voice echoed again: Don't close your eyes. Breathe. Find your center.
When the thug lifted the knife to stab him, the boy twisted desperately. The blade still plunged into his side, but at the same moment, his fist, charged with that faint spark of Ki, cracked against the attacker's chin.
The thug reeled back, spitting blood. The boy dropped to his knees, pain blazing through every nerve.
> System: "Severe wound detected. Critical condition."
The bat-wielder cackled.
—"Look at him! He can barely stand. This is gonna be fun."
With a roar, he charged.
---
🌑 The window
The boy staggered aside, tripping toward the shattered window. The knife-wielder lunged again, sinking the blade into his flesh a second time. The pain was unbearable, tears stinging his eyes.
In a desperate surge, he shoved with all his strength. They grappled at the edge of the broken window, icy air rushing in.
One misstep, one slip—
The thug tumbled into the void.
His scream vanished, cut short against the pavement dozens of feet below.
The boy froze, horrified. He had killed someone. He hadn't meant to, but he had.
No time to process it.
---
⚔️ Pure terror
The bat-wielder bellowed, swinging in a savage arc. The boy ducked just in time, the metal whistling past his head and splintering the floor. Instinct drove him to grab the bloody knife still lodged in his own side.
With a scream, he tore it free, blood gushing from the wound. The pain was so intense he nearly blacked out. But adrenaline held him together.
The bat came down again. The boy rolled aside, the strike shaking the floor. In a frenzy, he lunged forward and drove the knife into the thug's abdomen.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
Four.
The man howled, cursing, trying to shove him off. But the boy, blinded by fear and desperation, kept stabbing—each thrust more frantic, more savage. Blood sprayed, slicking his hands. The sound of steel tearing flesh echoed like hell's music.
Finally, the body went limp.
The boy fell back, scrambling, his eyes wide in shock. The knife clattered to the floor, stained with crimson.
---
💀 At death's edge
Silence. Nothing but the boy's ragged breathing, his chest heaving like a broken bellows. His vision blurred, the blood pooling beneath him—his own mingled with theirs.
> System:
"Mission Complete: 'Defend Your Hideout.'"
Rewards obtained:
Access to System Shop.
1 Senzu Bean (inventory).*
The words hovered before him, sharp and metallic, but he couldn't focus. His mind clung to one word: Bean.
With trembling fingers, he reached into the air. And there it was—small, green, glowing faintly.
He held it in his shaking hand, blood dripping from his knuckles. Every movement was agony, but somehow, he managed to bring it to his lips. The taste was bitter, strange.
His eyes fluttered shut. Darkness swallowed him whole.
Until—
A surge of heat erupted within, like a newborn sun in his chest. His wounds burned, his muscles tightened, the bleeding stopped. Life roared back into him with brutal force, as if something divine had torn him away from death's grasp.
In the utter silence, the boy collapsed, unconscious, bathed in invisible light