The cutting wind blew across the snowy Himalayan mountains with relentless force, but no sound pierced the stone walls of the underground sanctuary.
The hideout of the League of Shadows had remained unchanged for decades, like a temple outside of time. The bluish torch flames cast heavy shadows on the walls, but they could not compete with the blackness that consumed the center of the hall.
There, something was growing.
A black stain moved across the floor as if it were breathing. It spread in silence, advancing in cycles, tracing organic patterns around the feet of the League's warriors. None of them moved. None stepped back.
Their eyes were fixed. Their bodies, motionless. Their chests rose and fell in the rhythm of deep meditation.
At the top of the central staircase, two figures watched the scene without expression.
Ra's al Ghul stood with his hands clasped behind his back, his robes untouched even by the harsh altitude climate. At his side, Bruce Wayne kept his hood lowered, eyes half-closed, his face serene.
Down below, the first screams began.
Not vocal. Internal. The assassins' muscles tightened, their eyes rolled in their sockets, and blood seeped from their pores before any wound appeared. The darkness struck their skin like living liquid. On contact, it sank in, spreading inside, staining veins, nerves, and bones.
Their faces lost human color. Irises disappeared, replaced by a burning red haze. Their mouths sealed shut, mute like statues.
More footsteps echoed at the back. Other League members approached the circle.
The darkness engulfed them one by one. Slowly.
None resisted.
Their bodies trembled for seconds, then yielded completely. In less than a minute, more than half of the original force had been consumed. All standing. All silent. All the same.
At the top of the stairs, Ra's tilted his head slightly.
"In the end, all will bow. Free will is a luxury of civilization."
Bruce remained silent.
His eyes analyzed every detail with mathematical precision. The variation of light in the corrupted pupils. The rhythm of breath under domination. The absence of hesitation.
The process was absolute.
The last men entered the hall. They didn't run. Didn't hesitate. They walked to the center as if they had already accepted their fate.
The black stain rose in spirals, dancing around the bodies with brutal elegance. It touched, wrapped, invaded. One by one. No hurry. No pause.
The final transformation lasted less than seven minutes.
Now, more than eighty warriors filled the sanctuary, all their faces marked by unnatural pallor, eyes glowing like pulsating rubies, stripped of identity.
Ra's stepped forward.
The torch flames wavered. The cold seemed to bend. Every breath in the temple ceased for an instant.
Ra's voice rose without warning, yet it didn't break the silence. It filled it.
"This is the vision. This is the pure form of obedience. This is the world's symmetry under an unbreakable will."
Bruce's eyes stayed half-closed. There was no surprise in them. No discomfort. Only analysis.
"For millennia, we accepted imbalance. We accepted chaos disguised as freedom. The lie of choice. The poison of liberty."
Ra's descended the first step. The sound of his steps vanished before they touched the floor.
"Today, I see you. All of you. Each one with the same gaze. The same purpose. The same truth pulsing like blood in your darkened veins."
The army did not respond. Did not blink. Did not move a muscle.
"And I know… I know the fools will call this tyranny. Loss. Monstrosity. They'll say I killed each of your souls."
Ra's stretched out his right hand. The shadow on the ground rose and wrapped around his fingers like liquid rings.
"But the soul is a weight. A noise. A delay. You are more than men now. You are the answer. The necessary cut. The blade that will come."
Not one warrior moved.
Neither did Bruce.
"I don't speak for you to understand. I speak so the universe hears. I speak so the darkness remembers who summoned it first."
Ra's slowly raised both arms.
"I awakened the truth. And I don't need you to follow me. You already are it."
The shadow around him expanded, breathing with him.
"Every civilization is born in violence, grows through structure, and dies by freedom. Today, we break this cycle. Today, we rewrite the world."
The flames danced in blue.
The red eyes glowed in unison.
Bruce's gaze stayed fixed on the center of the hall, where it had all begun.
"All will bow. Not out of fear. But because there will be nothing left to believe in."
The last torch went out.
For a moment, the temple was swallowed by total darkness. No sound. No breath. No light.
And then Bruce's voice echoed, steady as cold metal.
"And all this… because of a gift."
The penumbra quivered faintly against the walls, but the army remained still.
"This power. This army. This… vision. All given by someone you call master."
Ra's did not answer.
His eyes, once fixed on the void ahead, turned slowly toward Bruce.
The silence that followed was not empty. It was sharp.
"You forgot what he truly wants."
Bruce's presence was unshaken. His words carried no challenge, only fact.
"It isn't about order. It isn't about control. It's about the stones."
Ra's jaw tightened subtly.
"Barbatos doesn't care for your dream. Or mine. He only wants what he has always wanted."
Ra's eyes met Bruce's. The shadow between them was dense as black glass.
For long seconds, no one moved. Not a muscle. Not a breath.
Ra's gaze was not impulsive rage. It was slow. Carved. Precise.
He looked at Bruce like a fissure in an ancient blade. Not with fear. But with calculation. A subtle reminder that this gaze had preceded countless death sentences.
"You speak like a disciple who thinks himself a prophet."
Ra's voice was low, but it cut the hall like a sharpened blade.
"He led me to the Pit. He taught me of the cycle. Before you ever crawled through Gotham, I knew the stench of living death."
Bruce said nothing.
"You speak of stones… of power… as if truth were something new. As if I were blind to what dwells in the shadows."
Ra's descended two more steps, unhurried.
"You were chosen. I was forged. You bear a title. I bear eternity."
Bruce's silence was an act of dominance. Neither approval nor denial.
The temple's darkness stayed still, yet it vibrated deep down as if awaiting a decision.
"You don't understand, Wayne. You still think the throne is given. That the herald defines the altar."
Ra's stopped a few steps from the ground. The army behind him didn't even blink.
"But I saw the foundation. I served the first circle. When the world was clay and names had no sound."
Bruce kept his gaze fixed. His posture unchanged. His body still as if he didn't even breathe.
Ra's lifted his chin slightly.
"You insult me with reminders… as if I needed reminding."
The shadow on the floor rippled.
"You still think like a man. And men always confuse destiny with choice."
Bruce finally tilted his head to the side.
"Or maybe I just see the part you refuse to accept."
The reply came like a steel wire. Neither challenge nor reverence. Only weight.
Ra's stayed still. And then, very slowly, something in his expression shifted.
The rigidity of his jaw eased. The corner of his mouth moved almost imperceptibly.
A smile.
Faint. Almost nonexistent. But there.
As if he had seen something Bruce could not yet see. As if, among all possibilities, there was a silent truth hidden in Bruce's silence itself.
Ra's head tilted a centimeter to the side.
"You are young. Too young to grasp the weight of what is left unsaid."
Bruce didn't respond. But his eyes held the same unshakable firmness.
"The world does not turn because of the will of the righteous. It turns because the oldest eyes decide it must."
Ra's walked two more steps, until the space between them was measured only by the invisible tension in the air.
"You were chosen. And that is beautiful. Tragic. But also… replaceable."
Bruce said nothing.
"Do not fail, Bruce Wayne."
Ra's slowly turned his back.
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