The storm rolled in over the Himalayas like a living beast—black clouds rumbling low, lightning flashing across ancient peaks. The Batwing cut through the sky in silence, its matte-black frame almost invisible against the night.

Inside the cockpit, Bruce Wayne stared ahead with a clenched jaw and eyes that refused to blink. The file still sat open beside him—encrypted footage leaked from an unknown source. Grainy, but clear enough. A woman in emerald robes. A child with dark hair and piercing green eyes, moving through sword drills with terrifying precision.

A child. His child.

Bruce’s voice had been stone when he told Alfred, “I’m going to find him.” Now, he was minutes from Talia al Ghul’s hidden compound—the heart of the League of Assassins.

He landed hard.

Within minutes, League guards surrounded him, but none dared touch him. They knew who he was. What he was. The Demon’s Daughter would want to see him herself.

And she did.

Talia waited in the grand courtyard, moonlight bathing the stone in silver. She stood tall, arms crossed, expression unreadable.

But Bruce wasn’t looking at her.

He was looking at the boy standing near the steps behind her—small, alert, dressed in black and green, watching him like a hawk. Like a warrior. Like Ra’s al Ghul reborn in miniature.

The boy didn’t flinch. Didn’t smile. Didn’t speak.

Bruce stepped forward, breath caught in his throat.

“…Damian?” he said, barely above a whisper.

Talia’s voice cut through the moment like a blade. “So the Bat finally comes to claim his blood.”

Bruce turned toward her, fury rising. “You hid him from me.”

“I protected him from you,” she snapped. “You would have made him weak. I made him strong.”

And then it erupted.

Fists met steel. Shadows clashed against shadows as Bruce lunged, and Talia met him blow for blow. It wasn’t just anger. It was betrayal. Fear. Love twisted into violence. Damian stood watching it all, silent, unreadable—witness to a war he didn’t yet understand.

As Bruce pinned Talia to the stone floor, panting, she spat up at him:

“You’re not taking him.”

Bruce looked past her to the child—his son.

“I already have.”