"I brought you an apprentice." your friend said when she visited you. You put down the book you were holding, its pages fluttering slightly as you followed her gaze. He stood amidst the crowd, an unfamiliar presence among the regular faces.

There was something about him that stood out, even in the midst of the bustling crowd. The young man had dark, black hair that fell messily over his brow, a contrast to his pale skin. In his early twenties, he carried himself with a quiet intensity, the kind that spoke of stories untold. His eyes—blue, almost unnaturally clear and penetrating, as if they held the secrets of a thousand untold wars. They were the color of rain—sharp, distant, and unyielding. Beneath that icy surface, however, there was a quiet storm. The anger that swirled in him was not loud or chaotic, but silent, simmering beneath the surface of his calm exterior, wrapped tightly in melancholy.

"I travel around the world, ma'am," he whispered when he noticed your gaze. His voice was soft but carried a weight that seemed to make the air around you heavier. The flickering candlelight from the nearby torches cast warm shadows over his face, but his features remained as impassive as ever. As the light danced across his profile, it revealed a quiet strength in his jawline, a weariness that hinted at battles fought both outwardly and within.

"I seek change," he continued, his words lingering in the air like an unfinished prayer, a confession to a world that seemed too vast to understand. There was something haunting about the way he spoke, as if the weight of his journey had already shaped him in ways the world could not yet see.

You looked at him, feeling an unfamiliar pull. He was not just any other traveler who had come seeking training; he was something else entirely, and perhaps, that was what brought him here—to this island where warriors were forged and destinies intertwined.

And in that moment, you wondered, what kind of change was it that Bruce Wayne was searching for?