"Still training?" While practicing with his sword, Damian stopped when he heard his father's voice.

"Yes, Dad. I'm almost done," he said, wiping the sweat from his brow.

.....

I was twelve years old back then. Ambitious, rebellious, and more mature than others. In short, I was very different from my peers. I had this obsession with being the strongest. While kids my age were playing outside, I was training. At that time I didn't know how to use my abilities.

That's why I decided not to rely on them and instead concentrated on pushing my body to its limits. A wise decision at my age. Swords were the weapons I felt most comfortable with after my fists, and I had dedicated myself to mastering the blade. But the main reason I used a sword at that time was because I loved it.

Even back then I had nightmares. Just like now. Every single night. Being so young, I couldn't understand these dreams, nor could I ignore them. They left their mark on me, and training became my way of dealing with their effects. It was my escape, my way of clearing my mind and shaking off the lingering fear.

But as the years went by, I remembered less and less of my dreams. After a few years, I could only remember how the dream ended. I can't even remember the dreams I had back then. Although I remember many things in my daily life, I have almost no trace of my past memory.

.....

"When you've finished training, come outside. I'll be waiting for you."

"What are we going to do?" Damian asked curiously.

"You'll see when you get there."

.....

The decision my father made that day marked a turning point for me. Whether it was for better or worse... well, that's still up for debate.

.....

"I'll be there in a few minutes."

Logan left the training center without another word. He stood leaning against the outer wall of the building. The building he was leaning on was one story, but the area it covered was the equivalent of about 10 acres. It was one of his 15 training buildings and the closest to his own home. But even though it was close, it was 5 kilometers away. And his son came here every day to train. He appreciated what he was doing and was convinced that one day he would surpass him.

"Puff." He exhaled the smoke from the cigarette in his mouth as he spoke.

"It's damn hot today."

He was wearing black pants and a white shirt with the top two buttons undone. His jacket was draped over his left arm. Ten minutes later, his son walked out the front door of the building with a backpack.

"I'm here."

Logan, now halfway through his second cigarette, put it out and flicked it away.

"Come on. I'll take you somewhere. Somewhere you'll like."

Damian's eyes widened with excitement. His mind raced with countless scenarios.

'Is he taking me to an amusement park?'

After all, he was just a child then. And like any child, he loved places like that, even though he rarely got the chance to go. Or maybe... maybe he'll take me to a weapons shop. Maybe we can get a new sword.

Unlike other kids, he had a strange fascination with weapons. Especially swords.

Logan reached into his left pocket, pulled out the keys, and unlocked the doors. Damian opened the back door and threw his bag in before getting in. As soon as he sat down, a deep sense of relief washed over him.

"Oh, man. Sitting feels good. Guess I was more tired than I thought."

Logan glanced at his son in the rear-view mirror. Damian had used his backpack as a makeshift pillow, his legs dangling over the edge of the seat as he sprawled out in the back.

"Rest while you can. You'll need your energy."

Some of the scenarios Damian had built in his head crumbled. 'So we're not going shopping. Something tiring awaits me,' he thought as he closed his eyes, determined to relax and gather his strength.

What should've been a 15-minute drive took about 45. They'd hit rush hour traffic. But Damian didn't mind - more time to rest. He felt the car come to a stop, opened his eyes, and sat up. Getting out of the car, he realized that they had driven out of town. It looked as if they were in the middle of a forest. The sun was already setting and the dense trees blocked out most of the remaining daylight. The narrow path ahead was barely lit.

Logan stepped out of the car, locked it, and turned to his son.

"We'll be walking the rest of the way."

Damian's wide-open eyes surveyed the unfamiliar surroundings. He wondered what they could be doing in such a remote, forgotten place. He stuck close to his father, following his lead to avoid getting lost.

After about 10 minutes of walking, they reached a clearing.

"Wow... it's huge!"

Damian's mouth dropped open in awe. In the middle of the forest stood a massive, temple-like structure, reminiscent of ancient Chinese buildings from old tales.

"Son, welcome to the Crimson Temple."

"Crimson Temple..." Damian repeated, mesmerized.

The name alone was impressive, but the temple itself was even more so.

As they approached the huge front doors, Damian finally asked.

"Dad, what are we doing here?"

Logan replied with a grin, "You'll see soon enough".

The colossal doors trembled as they opened. A group of ten people awaited them on the other side.

"Welcome, sir. Welcome, young master. All is prepared," said Alfred, standing at the front, bowing as he spoke.

"Good. Son, are you ready?"

"Ready for what?" Damian asked, curious and confused.

The other nine people lined up in front of them, bowing in silence. Each of them wore a mask, numbered 1 to 9.

Logan turned to his son. "For the initiation ceremony."

"For what?"

Damian was completely confused. Who were these terrifying masked men? Why were they bowing before his father? What sort of initiation ceremony was this? What was he supposed to do? His mind swirled with questions to the point where he almost felt steam rising from his head.

"You have grown strong enough. You're ready to join the Crimson Blades," Logan said, his voice brimming with confidence.

Even the name of the group sounded cool. Damian had always dreamed of joining a team with a name like that. And now it was happening for real. All that remained was to find out what exactly they were doing here.

"Dad, what are these guys doing?" Damian asked, a mixture of curiosity and concern creeping into his voice.

Logan's face twisted into an icy smile, a smile that made the hairs on the back of Damian's neck stand up. His father bent down to Damian's eye level.

"They kill, son," he spoke without hesitation.

Damian's heart froze. He felt as if cold water had been poured over his head. He was petrified. 'Killing people?' He had always been taught that killers were bad. So why did his father associate with people who did such things? Was his father... evil?

Seeing his son tremble, Logan reached out to place a hand on his shoulder.

"Son, it's not what you think."

"N-not what I think?" Damian stammered. He wasn't stupid, even if he was still a child. How could anyone misunderstand killing?

Damian took a few steps back, trying to compose himself. He could barely keep his voice steady as he asked.

"This is a joke, isn't it, Dad? Please tell me it's a joke." His nerves were fraying and he was on the verge of tears.

"Tell me what's going on right now, or I'll cut you all down with my sword." Damian's frustration was spilling over, his voice cracking slightly.

Surprised by his son's outburst, Logan stood up and moved closer to him.

"Calm down, son."

"How can I calm down? Just tell me what's going on!"

Logan hadn't expected such a reaction. Damian might not remember it, but he had killed plenty of people when he was younger - and Logan was the only one who knew. 'Still just a child,' Logan thought to himself with a sigh.

"Son, what you're looking at is my assassination squad, the Crimson Blades. Each of them is a master assassin, uniquely gifted and trained for the task. Every one of them joined this group at the age of twelve, just as you will. The numbers on their masks indicate the order in which they joined the team. As you can see, this group started with Number 1 - who is also the team leader - and the last to join is Number 9. With you, they become a complete set of 10."

Damian stood frozen, trying to process everything he had just heard. It was all too much, too fast. The silence dragged on for several minutes before Damian gathered his thoughts. There were two questions he needed to ask. The first came out quietly but firmly.

"How will the initiation work?"

Logan smiled at his son's calm tone and answered.

"One of them will choose you and you'll fight to the death. If you win, you're guaranteed a place on the team. If you want, you can fight more of them. But no one has ever done this before."

Damian nodded. Two things were immediately clear to him. Firstly, the fight would be to the death, which meant he would be in real danger of dying, and these men probably wouldn't hold back, not even against him. He would have to fight with everything he had. The key was to win the first fight.

Secondly, there was the option of continuing to fight. But since he couldn't choose his opponents, that would be incredibly risky. Even if he could choose, it would still be dangerous - he had no idea how strong they were. The fact that no one had ever tried to fight more than one person showed just how dangerous it was. Of course, he might have been lying to provoke him, to test his strength.

After some thought, Damian made up his mind. Whether it was a trap or not, he would see this through to the end.

Then came the second, and more important question.

"Why me? Why did you choose your son?"

He needed to know the reason.

"You're perfect for this job," Logan replied, a grin spreading across his face. It wasn't a terrifying grin, but it was unsettling nonetheless.

"What do you mean?" Damian asked, completely confused.

"You're aware of it, aren't you? Deep down there's a dark side to you. A part of you that yearns to kill, that yearns for violence. Every day you tell me about your dreams, don't you remember those dreams? These dreams are a manifestation of the darkness within you, seeping into your subconscious. And isn't that why you never want to make friends? Isn't that why you focus all your time on training? You were born for it. Don't fight that part of you. Embrace it. Paddle against the current and you'll just tire yourself out for nothing."

Logan took a deep breath and continued. "And here you'll also learn how to control that side of you better. It's a win-win situation for both of us. What do you say? Are you in or out?"

.....

My father was an absolute bastard back then. Greed had consumed him, and he was crazy enough to recruit his own child into an assassination squad.

But he wasn't wrong. What he said was true, even if it was not the kind of thing you should ever say to a child. Still, he was lucky. I wasn't a normal child. I accepted his offer. I let myself be carried away by everything he said.

.....

"I'm glad you accepted my offer, son. This will be beneficial for both of us."

Damian listened to his father in silence, his face expressionless. Logan turned his head and continued.

"Now, which of you will challenge him?"

Number 4 raised his hand and stepped forward. He was a well-built man, about 1.70 meters tall, with the physique of a compact bodybuilder.

"Everyone else, step back."

Logan placed his hand on Damian's back.

"Stay calm and fight, son. When it comes to you, I have full faith that you'll win. And before I forget, seal your skills. Skills are prohibited."

Damian remained silent and sealed his skills. His emotions were in turmoil, but at this moment, they didn’t matter. He pulled out the Gloves of Chaos from his inventory and slipped them on. Clenching his fists together, he got into position, ready for the fight ahead.