"Embrace the Chaos."

Urgh. Please shut up.

No sooner had Damian called the start of the second round than the voice in his head began to speak again. It whispered, but the sound echoed through his mind, disturbingly persistent and impossible to ignore.

"Don't be arrogant just because you landed a hit." Number 1 said.

"But you won't get another one on me."

Despite the voice's interference, Damian's spirits were high, his confidence unshaken. His eyes still burned painfully, but he was used to it completely. He could hold them open with ease.

"Are you afraid?" he teased.

Number 1 remained silent, unfazed. He wasn't the type to be easily provoked.

"You're the one who should be afraid."

Damian burst into laughter—a long, booming laugh that echoed across the battlefield. After a moment, he slowed down, took a deep breath, and replied,

"You must be old. No wonder your ears don't work."

His voice was filled with the reckless bravado of youth, his arrogance fuelled by the exhilaration of the fight and the rush of adrenaline.

"I will win this battle. And I'll make you kiss the ground."

Number 1 didn't react. He just stood there, waiting.

"We'll see,"

He said calmly, before launching himself forward and aiming a sidekick at Damian's left knee.

Ah. I can see it.

But there was a problem. Damian had dodged the first attack by pure reflex, but he couldn't rely on that every time. There was no guarantee that he would always be quick enough to react to what he saw. Even if he could anticipate an attack, there was no guarantee he'd be able to avoid it.

Yet none of this mattered to Damian.

On the battlefield, in the heat of the fight, nothing was certain. Calculations could be made, but the winners were determined by those who fought and the decisions they made - right or wrong, risky or cautious.

And if there was one truth that Damian understood deep down, even if he didn't consciously realize it, it was this: Without risk, there can be no victory.

From the very beginning, he had accepted that this was a gamble.

Damian twisted his left leg in the direction of the incoming kick, leaving only an inch or two of space between his knee and the kick. Instinctively adjusting his leg to match the speed of the kick, he launched a counter-attack, aiming a kick at Number 1's face. However, due to his short height, the kick fell short.

"Tch."

He had missed a perfect opportunity to counter. Both quickly adjusted their stances and threw punches at each other. Their fists clashed in the air.

For someone of his age to have such speed, agility, and power... a true monster. Just as one would expect from the Child of the Blood Moon.

They traded blows, each one clashing with the other's. Everyone watching was in shock - this 12-year-old was going toe-to-toe with the leader. It was beyond impressive; it was terrifying. As he grew older, he would become even more powerful, and there would be no one to stop him or his growth. He was able to protect himself, and he was under the protection of the strongest man on the continent.

The clash of fists in the air was over and it was time to block and counter. Both blocked incoming strikes and responded with their own counter-attacks.

Time... It's as if it slows down more and more. Or am I just getting used to this speed?

A left hook came straight at his face. Damian calmly leaned back and dodged the punch. He then grabbed Number 1's arm with his right hand and locked his left around his elbow, twisting quickly and throwing him to the ground.

"I told you I'd make you kiss the floor."

He placed his knee on Number 1's back and began to press down.

"Urghh!"

Number 1 could feel his bones and organs being crushed under the pressure. He struggled, trying to keep Damian off balance, but it was as if a massive boulder was holding him down.

"Just give up."

Damian pressed even harder, not even considering the possibility of killing his opponent. There was only one thought in his mind: *Make him surrender and win.*

"'Alright, boy. You've left me no choice."

"What?"

Number 1 discreetly drew a thin sword from his inventory and swung it at Damian. Unaware of the blade's approach, Damian couldn't dodge in time. But it wasn't a fatal blow. Instead, the sword pierced his left shoulder. Number 1 quickly pulled the blade back and launched another attack, but it didn't go as expected. Damian, still holding his arm with his right hand, released the other and grabbed the sword.

"Sneaky tactics like that... you really deserve to be their leader."

Damian extended his claws, breaking the sword and driving them into the arm holding it.

"Argh!" Number 1 groaned in pain.

"But... Like them... You're not strong enough."

Damian pressed his knee down with full force.

"Urgh! Fine... I surrender."

He announced his surrender without wasting any time. No one reacted. Because it was normal. If he'd delayed, he'd have been beaten to a pulp before he'd even surrendered.

The moment Damian heard this, he slowly stood up, turned his back on Number 1 and began to walk towards his father. The flares in his eyes had gone and the red lines that had appeared earlier had vanished. He felt completely exhausted and in immense pain.

"Don't... bother me... for a long time..." he muttered. The moment he finished speaking, he collapsed in front of his father.

Logan caught him before he hit the ground. He lifted his son and held him in his arms. Holding his son in his arms, he turned to Alfred.

"Prepare his items. Also, assign him a special target for his first mission. It should be ready for him after he recovers."

"Understood, sir." Alfred nodded in acceptance.

Without another word, Logan made his way to the car. The wounds on the child in his arms had already begun to heal. In unconsciousness, the seals on Damian's skills had been broken, allowing his sealed healing power to be activated.

.....

He placed his unconscious son in the back of the car and sat in the front.

"Haaah."

It had been a day of surprises for him. Logan knew Damian was strong, and he had even predicted that Damian could defeat both of them. But he hadn't expected him to beat the team leader. Especially those eyes during the last match - those were extraordinary. From what Logan could deduce, Damian's eyes simply allowed him to adapt to his opponent. But there was more to it than that. Because with those eyes, he had moved much faster. But he didn't need to dwell on what he didn't know.

"You're full of surprises, boy. You may be the most special one among the Children of the Blood Moon."

There was a knock on the car window. Logan rolled it down. It was Number 1.

"Are you alright, old friend?" Logan asked.

"Don't act like you care."

His voice was irritated. Even though Number 1 worked for Logan, there was an underlying tension between them.

" I actually care," Logan insisted.

Liar

"I'm fine," he replied, glancing at the boy lying in the back.

"I wasn't expecting this. Even if I had used all my strength, I'm not sure I could have won."

Logan let out a booming laugh.

"HAHAHAHAH. He is my son after all. Of course, he's strong."

Number 1 sighed.

"I have to go home. You should rest as well. Tomorrow's mission is important," Logan added.

Number 1 stepped back without a word and walked towards the temple. Logan closed the window, started the car, and drove home.

"You will be the key to getting me to the top, kid. So, please, keep this up."

.....

Joining this damned team was truly a painful process. Forcing a kid who had never fought before into a fight... My father is the only one who would do that.

"Embrace the chaos," the voice echoed faintly, like the dying words of a man on his last breath.

But there were some benefits to joining this place. As they said, I could control that side of me much easier now. I only let it out of its cage during missions. Other times, I kept it quiet in its cage. Over the years, the voice had grown weaker. If it continued like this, it would eventually fade away completely. Although I had gotten used to it, like so many other things, it remained a frustrating nuisance.

I started to think about the person I used to be. Despite my surprise, and no matter how much I resisted at first, I quickly accepted it and got into work. Perhaps I was born this way. Maybe I became like this over time. I don't know. But I had grown accustomed to it. I had grown accustomed to killing. It felt like a normal act to me. Almost like breathing. Sometimes I wonder if I really am the monster people say I am. Because when I kill, I feel nothing. No sadness, no remorse, no guilt.

For as long as I can remember, I've had a fixed view of life: the value of people or other things is determined by the value you place on them. The feelings you have towards them are a reflection of that value. My brother, my father, the relatives and friends I care for at home - they are precious to me. I'd do anything to protect them. But when it comes to strangers, it's a different story. Like the people I've killed. I feel nothing. I can't feel anything. It's like they're empty—just a few worthless lives. Lives are so insignificant that their deaths don't affect anything.

Thinking about it, it's a selfish way of looking at the world. Maybe that's why I ended up like this. But thoughts like that won't change easily. I've accepted them, lived by them, and I'll continue to live by them. How others see me doesn't matter much. Being selfish doesn't matter either. As long as I'm protecting the people I care about, I don't care if I'm a monster.

[You have two notifications and one message]

Ah. I forgot about these. Wait a minute, what’s up with the message? Well, I guess I’ll see when I open it.

System

A semi-transparent blue screen filled with text appeared in front of me.