POV The Knight
Mansion : Sewers Entrance
The knight, still nameless, trotted slowly down the tunnels he had once traversed.
This time, he took his time, exploring every branching path and noticing other passages that seemed to lead to utility rooms once used by the now-defeated cult. Many things he encountered were incomprehensible to him, blending both scientific and mystical elements.
Still, he managed to piece together some of the intentions behind these rooms: dissection tools scattered about, likely used on rats, and cryptic evidence of experiments.
“It seems this cult was far more involved with these monstrous rats and abnormal fungi than I initially thought,” he muttered to himself, inspecting the decayed tools.
Aware of how easy it was to get lost in this labyrinthine underground, he began marking the doors and passages he found interesting, just in case he wanted to return for a more thorough investigation later
Walking through the underground, the knight began testing his new abilities against the abnormal rats. He was careful this time not to get blood on himself and to pass undetected.
He discovered that he could easily kill the rats with a single strike to either the head or the torso. His knife, with his speed and strength, made it so that the rats couldn't dodge nor survive his attacks.
( This has become a joke... Before, fighting these things would leave me exhausted. Now, it barely feels like an effort. )
The change was undeniable. But alongside his newfound ease came an unexpected realization:
( Where’s my DP? )
Confused by the absence of any achievement notifications, he began trying all sorts of odd actions, hoping to provoke a response. After several failed attempts, he resigned himself to the fact that killing rats no longer granted rewards.
(I guess that makes sense. It’s not a challenge anymore. Still, it would’ve been funny if I could keep killing rats until I reached the level where I could decapitate a dragon with one swing...)
Laughing at the idea that someone could grow to such levels of power without facing any hardship.
He continued his path after seeing that he didn't have anything to do.
After reaching the storage room from last time, this time he passed by it, ignoring it.
His plan was to open the locked door to the sewers. In that way he would have to swim through the underwater maze each time he wanted to get out of the ruins of the mansion.
Having learned his lesson about how important intelligence seemed to be, especially after being too dumb to find a door.
He looked around the door for anything that he had missed the last time that he was here.
There wasn't anything new, only cold concrete and the bars from the door caving in to the sides.
The chain still was blocking the door, and the lock on it just seemed more detailed than what he remembered.
Grabbing the chain with both hands with a foot on the door, he stretched the chain with all his strength, the metal resisted the abnormal force from the knight, bending only by less than a micrometer. Failing to accomplish opening it, he continued with new ideas to open the door.
(Next idea.)
Seeing as the chain was long, he thought about twisting them into breaking them, but he needed something to do as a midpoint to twist. Folding the blade in, he put the handle in the middle of the inside of one of the chain links.
Having finished his preparation, he took a moment to prepare.
Then he began quickly spinning the chain, twisting it against itself. The chain made a sound of tension, they were beginning to bend ever so slightly.
Eventually a crack sounded, it wasn't from the chain but from the switchblade handle. The knight's strength, while capable of affecting the chains, was originating from the switchblade, and while the chains were of slightly rusted metal.
The switchblade was only half metal, it was half rusted metal and half wood from the handle.
After it broke, fragments of wood splintered from the handle while the sharp metal filament was broken into two pieces, which he was holding with all his force.
Falling on his ass and getting a big cut on the palm of both hands, the knight once again failed to open the door, this time with some blood to show for his effort.
"Damn it!"
Getting angry at his situation, he threw the broken blade to the ground. Frustrated, he punched the door, this one trembled a bit, moving the dust that was settled on it.
The dust fell on the knight, covering what little blood he had on him in it and all his face in dust.
In complete frustration, he thought to himself.
( Alrigth think before you act. Got it.)
To further humiliate the hero, his power sent him a notification.
[You have discovered : That´s a bad idea + 100 DP ]
[You have mentally matured.]
[ Hi kid, here is a tip: think before doing something, alrigth? ]
His sullen face showed marks from the effort put on him by the anger he had inside.
Steping back from the dust cloud that was dispersing, he took a calming breath and intoned some word to calm himself down.
" Lib if you are watching me you should help me out. "he protested.
Calming himself down at the tougth of Lib being on the back of his mind , in a literal way. He quieted down his anger.
He tried to talk whit him for a bit but unfortunaly aside from the notification nothing else conveyed any message from his friend.
His sullen face showed marks from the frustration of the situation.
( I have to find out how to turn human, not being able to talk to Lib is something that is really becoming problematic.)
While he cursed his luck, he also noticed a detail on the bars of the door.
A small crack had formed in the concrete where one of the door's bars and the concrete met.
Experimenting with a newfound idea, he launched a powerful strike on the same spot where he had previously punched. The bars of the door trembled for a bit, sending the noise along the sewers.
The crack had, if not by much, expanded.
(It must have been the moisture that has weakened the concrete over the years.)
(Wait ... what?)
The realization, aside from revealing a possibility to get rid of the gate, also sparked something inside him.
While he already knew how he was going to break the weakened concrete, he began thinking about his idea.
So he began a cycle of him charging with his body against the door, slowly bending and breaking the door and the concrete foundation.
And while he did this, he began thinking about why was this a good idea.
( So the concrete is weakened. Why ? )
( ..... )
(Because no one must have taken care of it in years.)
( That's lazy. Did the cult never worry about intruders? )
( Well is a secret subterranean door that is only connected to the sewers by the most faraway point from the central sewers.)
( Understandable that they forgot to take care of it. But if the rest of the concrete in the wall has this moisture, how is it that only the door concrete is weakened? )
( On the side of the sewers, there is constant movement of water directly purified by chemicals. And on the cult side, they must use the door constantly, with all the rats and mystic fungus and probably decomposing bodies and chemicals, the concrete must have been used every day. )
( Right, so basically it's because they ignored anyone coming through here. I guess that if they had used some kind of oil for maintenance or sprinkled something to reduce the acidity and moisture of the sewers. The concrete would have resisted better. )
After finishing his train of thought, another notification sounded in his mind.
[You have learned something about Chemistry: +10 DP ]
[ Lib : A good first step towards being educated. ]
( So I was using my talent? But I haven't done anything special. )
( I just thought. Why was the concrete weak. )
( Is this what my talent in chemistry does? It lets me think better about the sewers ?. This might not be a good talent after all. )
While he continued to charge against the door, he grabbed the note that Lib left him, opening it in the section of talents.
He was going to read the secion about talents while he took care of the door.
And while he began to read the note from Lib, in Arkham Robin was beginning to catch up to his lost mentor.
Arkham, Cointemnt Zone Sewers
Robin had used some of the interrogation techniques to get all the information he could from the Sorcerer. But unfortunately it wasn't much.
He was just a logistical staff member from the League of Assassins, more of a businessman and a scientist than a soldier or a general.
He was redirected from some kind of operation that was going on in Gotham to bring support in this trap. Robin had proven to be much more competent than what the league expected, the reinforcements had ended up getting defeated by him without help.
The sorcerer didn’t answer any of his questions but responded with insults and hateful bickering, mixed with a bit of propaganda from the League.
[Talents are an important power that you have, they are almost as crucial as your characteristics.]
[A good example of a very useful and all-arounder talent would be psychology.]
The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
The sorcerer was avoiding talking about any of the information related to the league, a characteristic that all official members got engraved on their bones. The other henchmen the sorcerer commanded hadn't even expressed pain or nerves after getting roughed up by him.
"Kid, you better get ready. Your stupid mentor is going to get stabbed and beaten like a piñata."
( Stabbed and beaten, huh! Could it be a reference that there is a mole in Arkham security? No, they don’t expect Batman to fall for something so obvious.. )
While he positioned himself behind the tied sorcerer, he began looking on his belt for pepper spray to douse the sorcerer eyes.
It must mean something about the enemy Batman is going to face. Probably there is another villain hidden in ambush waiting too for him to finish the league men's and Mr. Freze.
The sorcerer, consumed by anger at his wounded ego, had made the biggest mistake he could in front of him: speaking without thinking.
For Robin, every word he said or didn’t say was a thread to pull on, linking it with the clues Batman had already provided.
[ Psychology is one of your strongest talents, it will take you years just to fully realize the potential of Psychology 1 or 2. But once you do, you will see why it is an incredible talent. ]
Tim continued the interrogation session, allowing the sorcerer to speak his propaganda while he tried to demoralize him, all without realizing that he was giving clues about the league's true intentions just from how he tried to humiliate the him.
[ It will help you with everything: combat, leadership, investigation, dealing with mental problems, lying, politics... . And you might think that is a weak talent at first because it "only" helps you think, but believe me, it is a very strong talent. ]
Reaching a point where the sorcerer was just repeating himself like a parrot, he decided to put an end to it.
"Come on, boy, stop wasting your time. Untie me, I can teach you magic and be a better mentor than—"
"The secret ambush that you guys have prepared for Batman is that the Joker is free and that one of his villains, maybe Scarecrow or Professor Pyg, is waiting for him, isn't it?"
"..." The sorcerer quieted down in silence agaaisnt the accusation of his captor.
"And if I didn't hear wrong, before that tremor back there was some kind of super weapon that you guys gave to Mr. Freeze to defeat Batman."
"Then maybe you should run to help him if you value his life." he said whit a more grave and grim tone.
Tim putting on a shit-eating grin on responded.
"Batman won't be defeated by that, also you gave it away too soon."he began saying whit full of confidence "The true heavyweight of the league is waiting for either me getting close to Batman to attack me or for Batman to finish with Mr. Freeze to ambush him."
The sorcerer remained completely still, trying not to show any response, in an effort to prevent Robin from extracting more information.
Just like the League had taught him when he was just a trainee, just like the rest of the assassins had done—remain silent, don’t betray the plan. He should have done that from the beginning.
( It truly feels bad that Batman sees me as a distraction. He didn’t plan to reunite with me in the sewers if we got separated, he planned to pick me up after he finished. )
( As if I were dead weight. )
"You don’t want to talk anymore? Where was all the league to complete the grand plan and all those empty threats that you were making before? "
Once again the sorcerer had been led by the noise by Robin, sparing a glance at the wall where the rest of his men were tied.
Some looked at him with disgust or smugness. For he had failed in something so basic as secrecy, basic training for all members of the league.
"You don't want to talk any more? Well, no matter, you were always a lousy sorcerer anyway."
While Batman exuded pure dread in the few interrogation sessions Robin had witnessed, Tim had crafted his own style: a mix of a cocky, sharp detective with a playful arrogance that came from someone believing they were better than everyone else.
This combination turned out to be the perfect solution for making arrogant criminals boast about their elaborate plans or pushing them to act aggressively without thinking.
And that attitude worked perfectly.
"You damn kid, I will kill you!"
Robin saw the sorcerer attempting to chant an incantation. Not wasting any time, Robin snatched a piece of cloth from one of the assassins pinned against the wall and forcibly gagged him.
Without sparing the sorcerer another glance, Tim dismissed him with a sharp motion. He tossed the incapacitated spellcaster toward his equally disabled henchmen. With the immediate threat subdued, Tim began retracing his steps toward the containment zone's entrance. His goal clear: reunite with Batman.
Tim moved carefully, ensuring his path remained unpredictable to prevent the League from coordinating an ambush against him. He chose a route where the League had set their first ambush, the catwalk, knowing it would be unguarded now.
If Batman had already taken care of the remaining inmates, at least they would face whatever "surprise" lay ahead together.
Backtracking through the sewers, Tim stayed alert, his thoughts razor-sharp. Meanwhile, the sorcerer lay bound, his ego crushed under the weight of his failure.
One of the female assassins, her arm dislocated from slamming into a wall during the fight, had begun the painstaking process of untying herself. It would take her a few minutes at best.
The sorcerer, on the other hand, was consumed by darker thoughts. He knew he was in trouble. Failing the mission was one thing, but breaking the League's iron rule of silence—especially by shouting threats—was another. Such a mistake was unforgivable.
The League’s dogma dictated that even in failure, silence was sacred. Death was preferable to loose lips. Anyone who faltered in this regard would face a brutal reckoning—a session with the rectors who specialized in torture training. Only this time, their methods would be anything but restrained.
As darkness crept over his mind, the sorcerer found himself sinking deeper into despair. He understood that his survival depended on silencing anyone who had overheard his outburst. If even one subordinate lived to tell the tale, he would face unimaginable consequences.
But the shadows surrounding him weren’t just metaphorical. The true price of his magic was rearing its head. The miasma of resentment from the undead he had summoned began to consume him, clawing at his essence and demanding payment: life—his or someone else’s.
He realized he couldn’t fabricate a plausible story to incriminate the vigilantes, especially given their no-kill rule. The League, would uncover the truth regardless. Desperation took hold.
Channeling his magic, the sorcerer turned his gaze toward his subordinates, who immediately understood his intent. Fear filled their eyes as they instinctively tried to distance themselves, though their bindings rendered the effort futile.
It wasn’t enough.
Drawing power from his Wraith, the sorcerer began a dark sacrifice ritual. The air grew heavy with malevolence as dark energy extended from his body onto the other, lacerating and devouring them alive.
The dark energy moved sluggishly, prolonging the assassin’s agony. A mere swat could dispel it—but bound and defenseless, they had no such luxury.
The chunks of flesh that were being ripped away from their bodies passed along the shadow into the sorcerer.
He, drunk on power, only had one thought.
( I'm going to kill you. )
His flesh warped, shifting with the rising pool of his subordinates’ blood.
----------------------------------------
[ Spirituality is an intriguing and rare talent, deeply connected to magic. It enables individuals to harness and utilize any cosmic energy they can attune to ].
[ One way to understand it is this: If magic is a technology, then spirituality is the science that explores how to create and understand it. ]
[ This talent is exceedingly rare. On average, only one in 100,000 people possesses even a level 1 in this category. To put that into perspective, a typical sorcerer might have a level 3 in talent. ]
[ Spirituality is shrouded in mysteries. Its depths and intricacies must be uncovered by those who wield it. However, one thing is certain: it has remarkable synergy with other talents, amplifying their potential in unforeseen ways. ]
As Robin walked through the hallway leading to the entrance catwalk, he spotted the assassin who had earlier fallen into his trap. The man was struggling, his body partially fractured, pushing himself against a wall in an attempt to stand.
Robin approached cautiously, pulling out a chloroform dart. With precision, he shot it into the assassin, knocking him out instantly. He inspected the man's injuries—a punctured lung caused by a broken rib was evident. Using the medical skills Batman had taught him, Robin applied an anti-inflammatory and stabilized the injury before securing the man with handcuffs.
( Batman taught me an entire crash course in medicine in case I got injured. Instead, I’m the one patching up others. )
[ Biology is also an interesting talent; it not only works as a science, but it also helps with things of your own body and others, like listening to your instinct or making your body do what you need it to do. ]
Continuing toward the catwalk, a cold breeze swept over him, bringing a sudden feeling of dread. Robin instinctively scanned his surroundings.
From the darkness of the sewer hallway, a hulking figure emerged, drenched in a dark, putrid fluid. The stench of rotting flesh and damp vegetation filled the air as the creature’s heavy footsteps echoed in the chamber.
Robin reacted swiftly, hurling an explosive dart. The creature, still concealed in shadow, snatched the dart mid-air. Its faint beeping illuminated the beast's horrifying features—a stag’s skull partially eroded and overgrown with dark green fungus. Its antlers appeared to be grotesque, pulsating growths of human flesh. Black keratin covered its twisted body, with veins and vines drilling through its limbs, ending in jagged spikes and claw-like nails.
[ You can also get surprised at how many things you can do using biology alone or with other talents like spirituality. ]
The dart's beeping quickened before exploding, sending a shockwave that enraged the creature. It let out a deafening, unnatural roar. Wasting no time, Robin turned and sprinted toward the catwalk, the monstrous hybrid pursuing him with inhuman speed. Its claws scraped the walls as it launched after him.
Reaching the catwalk, Robin hurled his chain upward, hooking it to a railing. With practiced agility, he vaulted into the air. The beast leaped after him, its powerful limbs propelling it skyward. Robin twisted mid-air, narrowly dodging the creature’s grasp. Using the beast’s head as leverage, he propelled himself further upward as it snapped at him, missing by inches.
The creature lost its balance and crashed into a support pillar below. Landing on the catwalk railing, Robin watched as the monster began climbing a nearby pillar. Quickly, he hurled another dart, timing it to explode as the beast reached the railings. The explosion sent it plummeting to the floor below, a loud thud echoing through the space.
Robin pressed on, racing deeper into the complex.
Along the way, he passed signs of recent battle—unconscious assassin squads, frozen inmates, and countless security systems now broken.
Arriving at the wing housing the Joker and other high-risk inmates, he was met with chaos. Cells were destroyed, their doors flung open, and a truck-sized hole gaped in the wall.
In the distance, Batman was locked in combat with a squad of red-clad assassins led by a woman wielding a deadly halberd. Behind them, a massive mechanical suit carried an exhausted Mr. Freeze.
Assessing the scene, Robin shouted.
“Hey, you unfinished deer project! Over here!”
The beast, disoriented after its fall, now refocused its attention on Robin. It charged after him, its rage undiminished. Robin darted into the fray, leading the creature straight into the assassin squad. Using his chain as a springboard, he vaulted over the group, delivering a dropkick to an assassin who had been sneaking up on Batman.
The sudden entrance disrupted the fight. The assassins hesitated, retreating slightly as Robin joined Batman’s side.
“You lied to me,” Robin said, dryly.
“It wasn’t a lie,” Batman countered. “I didn’t expect an ambush.”
Tim shot him a look. “Oh, so just accidentally wrong, then?”
“Well, I’ve made a new friend while you sent me off,” Robin shot back as the beast roared and lunged at the assassins looking for its prey, slashing one with its claws that left deep, bloody gashes across his chest.
Surprised by the monster, the assassins turned to defend themselves. Seizing the opportunity, Robin and Batman prepared for the next move in this battle.
Mr. Freeze, knowing how this was going to end, decided to fight passively, clearly hoping to be defeated by the Dark Knight so that he could ask him for help when he got defeated.
The leader, clearly irritated at the turn of events, screamed orders to his gang of assassins, trying to organize an escape so that Batman and Robin could fight the beast.
"Tell the remaining squads to retreat, the ambush has failed. Our squad is going to re group at the base."
His most close subordinate asked a question.
"We have the escape route ready, and the police are on their way. But we don't find the girl, she has abandoned us."
"Cursed psycho. This is what happens when working with Gothamites, they are all crazy."
While the battle raged on with Batman and Robin having the upper hand in all the chaos of battle, Mr. Freeze wasn't the only villain that was looking for help in Gotham currently.
A blonde-haired girl dressed in black and red was seen jumping across roofs.
In the same way that Victor's heart ached for the situation of his beloved wife, now under the hand of the league. The blonde, ponytailed girl was running through Gotham, looking for someone special to her. A red-haired green girl.
The only thought on her mind was to save the one friend that was with her, no matter how terrible she was.
Slowly, fates were beginning to converge into Gotham Port.
As a blonde psycho, a lizard man and an undead kid were being brought into the schemes of the league for different reasons.
What would that combination amount to? That was yet to be seen.
----------------------------------------
GOTHAM SEWERS EXIT
Finishing the note, the knight absorbed every word Lib had written about his talent. The sheer amount of information made his head throb.
( I hate thinking. My head feels weird. I hope I don’t have to do it again anytime soon. )
With a final push, he forced the rusted metal door open and stepped out of the sewers, following the path he saw before.
Outside the sewers he finally saw Gotham.
And the sight before him was breathtaking in its bleakness. Gotham stretched out like a gothic labyrinth of stone and steel, its towering spires and shadowed streets exuding both grandeur and decay. The oppressive architecture pressed down on him, yet at the same time, it stirred something within—a sense of wonder, naive and unshaken.
Climbing a small hill, he reached the road and scanned the horizon for the port.
( It shouldn’t be too far. They must have brought me there after that monster beat me.)
He followed the worn asphalt path, crossing a bridge that linked Gotham’s urban sprawl to its smaller island districts. The streets were sparse at this hour. A few dockworkers shuffled by, faces weary from long shifts. Residents lingered near rundown homes by the waterfront, their eyes darting toward him with suspicion.
His presence stood out.
Something about his posture—his steady, almost optimistic gaze—made him look like an outsider. A clueless tourist. A lamb waiting for the wolves.
Unbothered by their glances, he pressed on, retracing his steps. Eventually, he found one of Gotham’s ports.
The scene before him was raw, chaotic. Workers hauled crates, voices clashed in sharp commands, and the air reeked of salt, oil, and sweat. Yet, despite the disorder, he found a strange satisfaction in watching it all unfold. The sheer energy of so many people working together felt… fulfilling.
If only the shouts, curses, and occasional threats weren’t so frequent.
He weaved through the crowd, sidestepping workers and dodging swinging cargo. Then, suddenly—
A heavy shove sent him stumbling forward.
A burly man barreled past, his clothes stained with grime and torn from wear.
"Are you okay?" someone called out.
"Watch where you’re going, shithead," the man snapped, never breaking stride.
The knight’s irritation flared. He turned, eyes narrowing as he watched the man disappear into the crowd. There was something… familiar about him.
Then, a scent hit his nose.
Sharp. Acrid. Chemical.
His talent stirred to life, analyzing the lingering trace in the air.
( Acid. Soluble. Corrosive. The kind used… on people.)
The realization struck hard. It was the same stench he had smelled the night before—back at the blood pit.
A notification flashed before his eyes, breaking his focus:
[You have revisited one of Gotham’s ports: 1DP]
[Don’t do it.]
Lib’s warning.
He ignored it.
His eyes locked onto the fleeing figure. His heartbeat steadied, his senses sharpening.
Then, without hesitation—
He ran.
Justice.
Vengeance.
Propelled him forward.