"I got to say, I am more than a bit disappointed,"

A mountain of bodies, trails of blood like river. Melody born from moans and groans of agony. Shattered weapons, smoke dust on the air, echoes of explosion, severed limbs.

Scars of battle sang tales, the scene depicting an intense fight.

Yet the man standing atop it all stood with his hand in his pocket, his other lifting a broken ninja.

His gold and black wolf mask hiding his features. Yet his void black hair, trimmed to the side, waved like flames. The pure black suit outlined with gold on its edges and cuffs. his suit unblemished amid the chaos. His black gloves keeping him from touching dirt.

His whole outfit make him blend with the darkness, yet unlike batman, you could see his shadowing in the dark.

"I expected a fight, a good fight," His voice disappointed.

He threw the ninja through the walls down the blizzardious mountain range. The snow raged with fury, yet it seemed calm compared to the man standing before them. His icy gaze swept the are before landing on the few people left standing.

His air changed as he moved lifted his hands and gestured him to them, "Come at me."

His voice felt with lust for violence made them defensive. The have thrown armies of well trained assassins and he was still standing without a wound.

"Ow," He growned like a child.

His figure vanished, now meeting eyes to eye with the oldest human on the are. The man targeted reacted in pure instincts hone from decades of experience. Yet his instinct couldn't save him as the man stopped his blade from being drawn.

For all he knew, Ra's Al Ghul for the first time felt death's grasp. And it was now stareing straight at him.

"Boo,"

A hand grabbed his face, his vision shifting in a moment as his whole body slammed into the ground. He felt his world rock as the force coursed through his body. His skull was cracked with the wooden floor, sending an electric shock through his spine.

"Lazarus pit ain't going to save ya,"

His voice rung with childish glee as he stood up, his heel on the Assassin's leaders face. But before he could squash the cockroach under his feet, multiple chains wrapped around him. The chains twisted around his body before tightening. They tugged at his body, trying to pull him away from their leader.

Yet his figure remained steady, his feet still on the roaches face.

"Really?" His voice mocking.

He flexed his muscles, shattering the chains with pure strength. His figure than vanished, creating a creature on the ground he stood. Well, as for Ra's Al Ghul, he was having tea with his grandparents.

His figure blitzed before Talia, his fist inches away from her face.

However, Talia pulled back as many other assassins jumped to keep him down. The Wolf shifted in the air as he slapped the one closest to him and poked the eyes of the next. He then kicked the third in the throat and fooled by kicked to the side. He attacked all their weak spots before his feet could land on the ground.

While he landed back on the ground, Talia had pulled back into the corridor.

"I got you," She smiled, her finger already pressed against the detonator.

*BOOM*

The explosion shook the whole mountain while blowing a hole through the roof. The smoke filled the whole chamber. Yet Talia stood guarded. She had no idea who was their aggressor, yet they had thrown everything they had at him.

He had literally dropped into their headquarters from the sky and started beating all the guards that tried to stop him. From enhanced humans to Manbats, nothing even close to him. The chains was the first was time he got caught.

"Disappointment above disappointment!" His demonic voice ran through the smoke.

The next moment, the wind shifted into a ragefilled tornado, clearing the smoke away. An amid the crumbling structure, he stood on air without a crisp on his suit. On his hand was Ra's Al Ghul, the man was burnt toast. As for the others, who cares.

"You even blew up your father," His voice faked a bit of sadness.

Talia's gaze hardened, she hadn't expected him to survive the explosion. He hands reached for her weapons, her final defense. yet before she could draw then a hand griped her face and slammed her into the wall.

"Be nice," His voice enthusiastic, "Where is David Cain, A.K.A Oprhan?"

His eyes stared into her, her confusion visible. He removed his hand from her face, but slammed her body back into the wall with a punch to the chest. Talia felt heard her ribs crack and her heart give out for a moment. She blacked out only for a moment before the second shock woke her up.

Her body was now hanging on ting rope. If she were to not get into the Lazarus pit, she would die. But She could not escape his grasp without answering his question. Talia groaned with blood trickling down her face. Her body was on full adrenaline to keep the pain of multiple broken bones at bay.

Talia could take the pain, she was trained for it. But the man before her, this monster, she got to answer him.

"He...ha..ha..He left..ha..he is not here," Talia pushed the words out of her mouth.

"Not her?" The man questioned.

"He..hu..left the league of assassins a while ago," Talia managed to answer in a single breath.

"Oh...OHHH~" The man gasped, releasing her. "Why didn't you say so?" He questioned in a wronged tone.

Talia could only glare in response.

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"Hehe... I am cho chorry," He answered in a childish tone, knocking on his head. "But hey! It wasn't my mistake, you guys kept throwing yourselves at me. I know I am handsome and all but it was too much."

Talia continued to glare but soon decided to stop even thinking of provoking the man before her. She was intelligent enough to know who was before her.

He shrugged, and vanished leaving his final words hanging in the air.

"Okay, Byeee~"

.

.

.

A cold, moonlit night enveloped the dark alleyway, the dim glow of a single streetlamp casting long, jagged shadows against the brick walls. The chill seeped within thier

The coldness draped around her form like a cape. She crouched low, her figure clocked in black unseen by the world around her. The shadows were her home, her sanctuary. She had spent years learning to blend with the shadows, to live in it.

She had spent year honing to observe action, read the world through motion. From every twitch, every shift in breath or muscle. Words were a foreign language to her, but action—action was her native tongue.

Her father, David Cain, had been clear to. Tonight was her final test.

Across the alley, a man dressed in white coat smoking a cigar with a glass of whiskey in his hands. He had no idea what awaited him as he enjoyed his evening. She watched as he moved cheered with his friend before standing up with his guards.

Her father's voice echoed in her head, cold and emotionless. 'You must kill him, Cassandra. This is what you were born to do. This is your purpose.'

Her heartbeat quickened as she watched him leave the restaurant and wait for his ride. It was time.

She leapt from the shadows with the grace of a cat, landing silently behind him. Before he could turn, her small hands found his throat, moving with an instinct so deeply ingrained it felt like breathing. A sharp twist. A crack. His body slumped to the ground.

Cassandra stepped back, watching him fall, her breath steady but her mind racing. Her mind raised as the cold wind blew, chilling her exposed hands. She stared at the man's lifeless form.

It was done. Her father had trained her for this moment. She had passed the test.

But something was wrong,

Her eyes, once hard and cold, flickered as she gazed at the man's face. His eyes—wide, staring into nothing—haunted her. His body lay still, like a discarded puppet whose strings had been cut. And she had cut them. She had ended him.

A tremor ran through her.

For the first time, she didn't feel pride in her skill. She didn't feel the satisfaction of completing her mission. Instead, a strange, new feeling crawled into her chest. A weight pressed down on her, tightening around her throat, making it harder to breathe.

'Why?'

The question, unspoken and unfamiliar, reverberated in her mind. She had never questioned the lessons her father taught her. Never questioned her purpose as a weapon. But now, looking at the man's body, she could feel the weight of his death—her action—hanging on her like a chain.

Her breath came faster, uneven now. The world around her blurred, and for the first time, Cassandra felt truly alone. Not the comforting solitude she had known in the shadows. No, this was different. It was hollow. A pit had opened inside her, swallowing the certainty she once had.

She knelt beside the man, her hand trembling as it reached out to his face, brushing against the cold skin. His eyes still stared into nothing. He had no more breath, no more life. Because of her.

The image of his face burned into her memory.

She stumbled back, her hands gripping her head. The guilt hit her like a wave, crashing into her chest, suffocating her. She wanted to scream, to tear herself away from this moment. She had been taught to be a weapon, to be the perfect assassin. But no one had ever taught her how to handle this.

What was this?

'Why does it feel like this?'

The sound of footsteps echoed from behind her, heavy and deliberate. She didn't need to turn to know who it was. David Cain stepped into the light, his gaze cold and calculating, his eyes assessing her every movement.

"You are distract-"

He didn't get to finish his words, as a foot landed straight on his head.

"Yello, yello. How you doing this great night?" The voice filled with enthusiasm, stumped on the cold night. His voice cutting the cold with sheer joy in his voice.

Her face turned, her head clearing as she observed her surrounding. Her father now under someones feet. A man clad in demon mask looked straight at her. The bodyguards bleeding on the ground.

"Halo, kiddo, I have been searching for you for days now," The wolf man muttered, extending his hands towards her.

She reacted on instinct, to protect her self. She drew her dagger, clucthing his hands as she moved in to attack. Her blade reached his throat in an instant.

She realize her actions a bit too late as her blade already too far to draw back. She was about to take another life while she had yet to digest her first kill. But her worried for unfounded as the blade sparked as it met the fabric.

"Owww~" The man faked as grown as he clutched his unharmed throat, staggering unsteadily. But he stopped his act and ruffled her shocked head. "That was funny kid."

Cassandra finally snapped out of shock and kicked him in the stomach as she jumped back. But the wolfman, Zion, stood still taking her kick without much care. He just dusted his suit and stood still.

Cassandra kept her gaze at him as she checked her standing father. His nose was broken and blood covered his mouth. He was unsteady, yet he stood ready to fight with his gun out.

"Oh, my guy Cain," The man called with mockery.

Cain responded by unloading the whole mag. Yet Zion easily weaved though the bullets and arrived before Cain, his hand stretched out. He caught Cain by the face and plunged a 200 pound adult into the wall.

Cassandra drew behind him, her sword in hand. She was ready to defend her father, even if its to kill. But before she could cut, the man tuned swiftly and caught her blade.

"I know you understand me, kid," The man spoke, his eyes staring into hers. "Feeling guilty an all, why don't you come with me?"

His request halting her emotions. yet she could only bare her broken fangs.

"Okay," Zion muttered, his hand pushing Cain further into the wall.

He let go of Cain and released the blade from his hand. Cassandra watched with guarded gaze as the man took a step back and folded on of his arm back and gestured her to come at him. Cassandra could only grip her blade tight as she got ready to attack.

Zion could only smile under his mask. A child was still a Child.

Cassandra didn't waste more time as she rushed at him, swing her sword at him. Which her avoided by slightly bending his back. But she wasn't giving up as her pushed forward, her sword play at its best to kill the man before her.

Yet, even as she perceived his moment before he acted, she was still slower.

After allowing her to take a few more swings, Zion stepped forward. Catching her off guard, Zions had ruffled her hair, before he side stepped to avoid another attack. His momentum shifted as he began to tease her in-between attacks, using the opening to flick her head, pull her cheeks and pinch her small nose.

"Awe, cutie pootie, you can't hit me with your snail speed," Zion provoked.

Cassandra couldn't take anymore as she pulled her kunaies and threw it at him. She pushed forwards, ready to use the time of his evasion to attack him. Yet again to her surprise, he caught them mid air and threw them at Cain.

Zion at the end tilted his head slightly avoiding. The frustration in Cassandra continued to grow as Zion continued to tease her. Yet at the same time, something else was being swallowed by that frustration. Her guilt of death. It would never vanish but she had forgotten about in this moment to protect her father.

Her hands reached for her weapons with ease, her guilt forgotten as her mind focused only in killing the target before her. Her swings became calculated, her attacks missed with feint and traps, waiting for her prey to take a bite.

She was truly going for the kill.

Yet her blades could not reach, her traps failed and her faints were seen through. Each of her moments were avoided with ease as if he was reading her. She could read his every moment to only to be slower.

Her body tired and her mind raced to catch up with the target before her, her sword closing inch by inch. She could feel her technique connect, her skill grow as she finally faces an opponent who wouldn't be defeated by her in a moment.

Moreover, his provoking gestures,

She swing, her blade cutting through the smoke screen. Her blade finally reached her target. The gap between his turtle neck and mask.

However to her dismay, his hands reached forward at a speed she couldn't react. Her blade was halted and a rough pain came from her nose.

"You are good," He complimented with her nose clutched between his fingers. "Be my disciple."

But before she could answer, the space itself broke and swallowed them both.

"Do not take revenge, my dear friends, but leave room for God's wrath, for it is written: 'It is mine to avenge; I will repay,' says the Lord."

Romans 12:19