Boundless, endless pain, like billions of red-hot needles, exploded from a point in his spine, instantly piercing every nerve ending.
Consciousness was forcibly torn from a chaotic darkness in this hellish agony, dragged out into the light.
"Pain... So much pain... My back..."
Luther's thoughts were still stuck on the last moment before he collapsed into darkness at his desk, after working 72 hours straight. He had thought he would die from overwork, but the pain, so real it made his soul tremble, cruelly declared a fact—he was still alive, in a way more painful than Death.
He struggled to open his eyes, and what greeted him was not the familiar office ceiling, but the vast, cold, damp dome of a Batcave, with countless Bats hanging upside down from the rock walls, like black curtains of Death. The pungent smell of disinfectant and the cold metallic touch came from beneath him. He was lying on a futuristic medical bed, connected to various glowing monitoring instruments.
Not far away, a giant Tyrannosaurus Rex model roared silently with its massive mouth open, an ancient coin taller than a man stood tilted, and next to it was a glass display case with a shattered Bat suit, on which was written "A Good Soldier" in golden letters.
"This is... the Batcave?"
Luther's mind exploded with a buzz. Immediately, a massive and heavy torrent of memories, not his own, rushed into his mind like a bursting dam. Gotham City's dark childhood, the gunshots in the alley, the warm blood of his parents, the obsessive vow to become Batman, the endless entanglement with the Joker, and... the final scene where he was lifted high and had his spine brutally snapped by a giant man wearing a breathing mask, in the most humiliating way...
The intense pain intertwined with the memories.
"Bruce... his vital signs are dropping! Alfred, quick! Adrenaline shot!" A young and anxious voice sounded nearby.
Luther laboriously rolled his eyeballs and saw a boy in a red, yellow, and green uniform, still with a trace of childishness on his face, fumbling with medical equipment. His face was pale, and his forehead was covered in cold sweat. That was the third Robin, Tim Drake.
On the other side of the medical bed, a white-haired old butler in a sharp suit stood with his back to him, his shoulders trembling slightly, imperceptibly. That silent sorrow was more infectious than any cry, as if the coldness of the entire Batcave originated from the aura of despair emanating from him. That was Alfred Pennyworth.
"I... became Bruce Wayne? The strongest mortal, and also the most tragic hero? And even... the version who just had his back broken by Bane?"
Fuck! Luther roared internally. In his previous life, he was just a project manager, and his biggest dream was financial freedom and then to lie flat. He never thought of taking on such a hellish script! Gotham was occupied by Bane, and he became a cripple. How could he play this game?
Just as his consciousness was about to be completely swallowed by the despair and pain remaining in this body, a cold, emotionless mechanical voice, like the first light at the beginning of creation, suddenly exploded in his mind.
"[Host soul strength and current body compatibility detected to exceed 95%! Survival instinct and desire for control values met!]
[Multiverse Batman System... officially activated!]
[Newbie gift pack being distributed... Matching the optimal template based on the current World crisis level and Host soul characteristics...]
[Match successful! Congratulations, Host, you have obtained: Template — Peak Arkham Knight!]
"Boom!"
It was as if the Universe had exploded...
[Template abilities inherited...]
[Obtained ability: Ultimate Combat Arts (integrated the essence of 127 martial arts including Judo, Karate, Muay Thai, Samba, Krav Maga, etc., an ultimate combat system designed for the most efficient subjugation and killing of enemies)]
[Obtained ability: Tactical Master Mind (brain information processing speed increased to supercomputer level, capable of instantly analyzing battlefield data and formulating optimal tactics)]
[Obtained ability: Fear Aura (passive ability. Your very existence is the personification of fear; those with weak wills will fall into mental breakdown when facing you directly)]
[Equipment inherited...]
[Obtained equipment: V8.03 Knight Bat Suit (bound to the body, equipped with a full-function life support system, electromagnetic muscle fiber reinforcement, built-in multi-functional detective mode, and holographic tactical interface)]
[Obtained equipment: Full set of upgraded Bat tools (material upgraded to Prometheum alloy, functions comprehensively enhanced)]
[Vehicles inherited...]
[Obtained vehicle: Complete Batmobile (parked in the Batcave's secret passage, ready at any time. Equipped with drone swarm support and remote control functions)!]
[Newbie Welfare: Body state perfectly reshaped!]
An indescribable, warm torrent, like the very source of life, precisely surged towards his fractured spine!
"Crack... crack crack crack!"
Under Tim's horrified gaze, he saw the flatlining vital signs on the monitor suddenly skyrocket! Even more terrifying, he heard a series of crisp, bone-chilling sounds of bones rubbing, connecting, and healing from Bruce's back!
Bruce's previously limp body suddenly tensed, and the muscles in his back violently writhed at a visible rate, as if an invisible pair of large hands were forcibly reassembling, correcting, and reinforcing his fractured spine!
"My God..." Tim stammered a few words, the scene before him completely beyond the comprehension of his genius mind.
Just as he thought he was hallucinating, the man who should have spent the rest of his life in a wheelchair suddenly leaped up from the medical bed, landing steadily on the cold ground!
"Bang!"
The heavy thud echoed in the empty Batcave, like a heavy hammer striking Tim and Alfred's hearts.
Luther, no, the brand new Bruce Wayne, felt an explosive power he had never possessed, as if he could crush steel, slowly twisted his neck.
"Crack"
His bones made crisp popping sounds.
He did not look at his revitalized body, nor did he marvel at this supernatural miracle. He just slowly turned his head, his eyes, which appeared exceptionally deep in the Shadow, fell upon the dumbfounded Tim.
Those eyes were cold, calm, and as deep as the Universe. There was no longer the original owner's characteristic suppression and pain, nor the relief of surviving a catastrophe, only an absolute confidence that seemed to see through everything and control everything.
"Bruce... your... your injury... you... how did you..." Tim's voice trembled with extreme shock, completely unable to form a complete sentence.
Bruce looked at the young man who cared for him, and the memories inherited from the original owner stirred a ripple in his heart. He knew that this child was "one of his own." Thus, a subtle, imperceptible softness quietly melted into his cold gaze.
He answered Tim's question in a hoarse voice, yet full of undeniable power, as if declaring to himself:
"Because I am Batman."
These words, like an oracle, were filled with an unquestionable dominance. It was not an explanation, but a statement of fact.
Tim was instantly speechless; he felt as if he was no longer facing his mentor and father figure, but a king returned from hell.
And Alfred, who had been standing with his back to them, now slowly turned around. This old man, who had witnessed the joys and sorrows of two generations of the Wayne family, had the same astonishment in his eyes, but even more, there was a sense of relief, as if a thousand-pound burden had been lifted.
He looked at the young Master Bruce, whose demeanor was entirely different, and a complex light flickered in his cloudy old eyes. He didn't know what had happened, but he knew that the never-falling Batman had, in a way he couldn't understand, yet deeply longed for, once again risen from the abyss.