More advance chapters on P@treon.com/Saintbarbido.
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The vibe inside Infinity Island's Arena was electric, thick with the scent of salt and iron and the raucous noise of several hundred spectators.
"Ladies, Gentlemen, and Murderers, it's your boy, the Black Spiideeeer Baby!" The announcer, dressed in a black costume adorned with spider webs, strutted across the stage. "As an alumni of this penultimate glorious killers' club, it is my honor as 'her' student to declare that this is no ordinary duel we have today. This. Is. A battle of queens!"
"He knows he just referred to the League as 'next to last,' right?" a woman in a green dress and a white neko mask asked her partner, a gray-haired man with a hook on one hand.
Damian recognized the two as Cheshire and Hook. Along with Black Spider and, until recently, Hanzo, the trio made up the Elites—Shadows just below Masters like Shiva.
*Still too weak,* Damian scoffed inwardly, ignoring them.
On the stage, Black Spider continued to rile up the crowd.
"...a war of ideologies, a clash between two of the deadliest women alive for the right to shape the League's most promising warrior—The Infamous! Notorious! So good-looking you just want to kill the guy, The Ashura, DAMIAAAAAANNN!"
Black Spider pointed his way. Unfazed by the attention, Damian simply stood at the edge of the arena with his arms crossed and his expression unreadable.
"Is anyone else insulted yet strangely okay with his 'Too Cool for the Hood' attitude?" Black Spider asked the Arena, which ignited with mixed reactions. A section of the Shadows, mostly girls, absolutely loved him, even though Damian always ignored them and only had eyes for Cassandra. On the flip side, the guys absolutely detested Damian for his arrogance and bullish personality.
"So that's him," Cheshire purred, eyeing Damian's tall figure and long white hair. The oversized blue hoodie he had on did little to hide his incredible physique—or the similarities between him and the Demon's Head. That jawline alone...
Cheshire's eyes flicked to the main building's balcony overlooking the Arena.
*Finally found your heir, huh, Grandmaster?* she thought to herself with a hidden grin.
"Alright, alright, settle down, you overexcited animals. I'm about to introduce the combatants," Black Spider said, clearing his throat and pointing at one corner. "Hailing from the cold mountains of Nepal, she's mastered the secret arts of assassination and even created her own. With a deadly charm that matches her cold beauty, the man-eater, the silent dagger, the sweet succulent poison, the daughter of the Demon's Head, the Mistress of Death, Taliaa... AL...GHUUUULLLL!!!"
The cheers for Talia were deafening.
""We love you, Master Talia!""
""Please let me lick your shoes!""
""Take my soul! Just take it!""
""Assassinate me to death, Mistress! Crush me beneath your heel like the bug I am! For your amused attention, I'll die the happiest Spider!"" The last comment came from Black Spider himself.
Luxuriating in the attention, Talia spun around with a mesmerizing smile, clad in a tight-fitting black combat gi. Her eyes met Damian's, and she winked.
"Some guys get all the luck," Black Spider sighed in disappointment and envy. "Alas, such is life. Moving on..."
The Arena quieted down, a wave of anticipation blowing through the stands.
"Her opponent needs no introduction," Black Spider's voice turned serious. "But I'll endeavor to do her justice. Hit it!"
Out of nowhere, a loud gong rang out, followed by a series of ominous-sounding drums that filled the atmosphere with a slowly escalating, menacing grandeur.
"She is not human. How can a force of nature be constrained by the laws of man? Trained in the ways of the Immortals by an unknown Senior Master, forged in battle against demonic cultivators, and one of the four Sealers of the God of Serpents, her accolades are plenty and historic. I've only scratched the surface of this living legend. Hailing from Unknown, blessed by the Heavens with immeasurable martial talent, she is my Master, our Sifu, the greatest Martial Artist in the World, the Sword of the Demon's Head, the Only...Lady SHIIII....VAAAAAAA!"
Had there been a roof over the Arena, it would have been blown off by the cacophony of cheers that went on for several minutes.
Unlike Talia, Shiva gave no reaction, remaining calm and collected as she walked forward. Her red coat sashayed behind her, her cold gaze focused on Talia with unnerving intensity.
Damian's sharp blue eyes tracked every movement as Talia al Ghul and Lady Shiva stepped onto the battlefield and faced off.
Elite Shadows formed a silent ring around them, leaving the two women with a large enough space to move freely.
"There is only one rule. There are no rules," Black Spider declared before leaping out of the Arena.
A loud gong sounded to signal the start of the duel, and silence settled over the Arena.
For most, this would be an impossible choice.
Who among them could decide between the greatest assassin the League had ever produced and the deadliest martial artist in the world?
But Damian didn't care about tradition.
He only cared about power. And he had unwavering faith in Shiva's strength.
"Once more, we meet on the battlefield, Shiva," Talia spoke, her presence regal yet coiled with quiet menace.
She was a warrior forged in the fires of the League's oldest traditions, a woman who wielded deception as skillfully as she wielded a blade.
Her emerald-green eyes glinted with a cold, calculating intelligence, and her movements were precise, deliberate, as if every step were part of a larger strategy.
"And once more, you shall taste bitter defeat, dear student," Shiva replied with a small smirk.
Talia narrowed her eyes and started circling her opponent, who, in contrast, maintained her position.
*Swiww! Swiww!*
*Clang!*
A pair of sharp, thin needles buried themselves in the thigh of one of the Elite Shadows in the ring. The man seized up and flopped onto the ground.
"Still as perceptive as ever," Talia noted after Shiva blocked her attack with the sheath of her sword.
"And you're still the opportunist, waiting for the perfect moment to strike instead of creating them yourself. It's your biggest flaw. It's also why you could never beat me in the past 2,050 times our blades have crossed. What makes you think you stand a chance now?" Shiva responded.
Talia's brow tightened, her eyes briefly passing over Damian. She knew he didn't think she stood a chance. But that was okay—she would show him. She would show them all.
"Now? Because he's mine!" Talia moved first, her footwork impeccable as she launched into a precise series of kicks, each one aimed at a vital point.
Shiva dodged effortlessly, her body flowing like water, movements minimal yet refined.
Talia's dagger flashed in the sunlight, a silver streak that came behind her feint.
Shiva deflected the blade with her scabbard, the pommel of her sword handle landing squarely against Talia's ribs.
The crack of impact echoed through the arena, a sound that made Damian's jaw tighten.
Talia stumbled back while unleashing a salvo of poisoned needles that missed Shiva, who was drawing closer to the former.
Gritting her teeth, Talia went low with a leg sweep followed by a wind-up kick aimed at the chin but landed on Shiva's arm guard, forcing her back and creating just enough space for Talia to roll to her feet.
The crowd went wild as the two women circled each other, their eyes locked, breaths steady despite the intensity of the fight.
"You've gotten better. The recent training seems to have paid off," Shiva observed, noting the increase in Talia's overall muscle density. "It's only appropriate then, that I meet you at my best."
Metal rang as Shiva unsheathed her long katana, its deadly edge glinting in the sun.
Instead of answering, Talia unsheathed a second dagger, settling into a springy combat stance that emphasized speed and agility.
"Oh boy. That's a risky move. Daggers against a katana? I can't bear to watch," Black Spider commented.
The sentiment was shared by almost everyone except those with a better understanding of fighting tactics.
"Just shut up and watch. Don't count Lady Talia out," Cheshire said.
On the Arena's edge, Damian frowned.
There was no ceremony. No pretense for civility as they met again. The battle was brutal—a clash of philosophies as much as skill.
Talia fought with purpose, every move calculated, designed to bring her closer to a decisive victory.
Shiva fought with mastery, every katana strike designed to remind Talia who she was facing.
Blades flashed. Steel met steel.
The sound of their weapons clashing rang out like a symphony of violence, each note a testament to their skill.
The longer Damian watched, the more he understood why Shiva, who had the advantage, couldn't immediately put Talia down.
"That's it," he muttered in realization. "She's decreased Master's katana range by sticking close to her. Her dagger style is meant to purposefully counter Shiva's sword skills."
At that instant, Talia's dagger sliced through the air, aiming for Shiva's throat, but Shiva twisted her body at the last moment, the blade grazing her cheek instead. A thin line of blood appeared, but Shiva didn't flinch.
She retaliated with a spinning kick that sent Talia sprawling, but the younger woman rolled with the impact, coming up in a crouch with her dagger poised to strike, only to stop.
"You drew first blood. Impressive. But don't expect it to work again. I have already dissected your tactics and attack pattern. I can run my blade through you faster than you can blink. It's over," Shiva snorted, the tip of her katana aimed at Talia's neck.
The fight was a testament to their years of experience, their familiarity with each other's techniques. They had fought and bled on the same battlefields for years, had tested each other's mettle time and time again.
Which is why a look of shock came over Shiva as a bout of weakness invaded her body. "Poison?"
The slight cut on her cheek... Talia's daggers had been laced with a poison that had escaped Shiva's enhanced senses.
But even so, no known poison should have been able to overcome her chi's cleansing effects and affect her body.
Talia rolled away from the katana and stood with a smile. "If you're wondering what type of poison is coursing through you, rest assured it's non-lethal and only relaxes your limb muscles. I specially brewed it to bypass your chi detection ability. Did you think I was only training my martial arts skills? No, I was preparing! There's a reason I wait for the perfect moment to strike. If I were to create it like you said, well... this is what happens."
"I underestimated you," Shiva chuckled, twirling her katana slower than usual. "Let's finish this, Demon's Heart."
"Gladly!"
The two met for the third time in a wild, climactic battle filled with desperation.
The crowd's noise was too loud for Damian to hear their conversation, even with Ashura, so he only saw what happened next.
The moment Shiva began to hold back.
It was subtle, something only someone with his eyes could notice. A fraction of a second slower on a dodge. A slight mistiming in a counter.
She was letting Talia win.
The realization sent a wave of fury through him.
In the end, Talia's dagger found its mark, pressing against Shiva's throat.
The air was thick with silence.
Shiva didn't move.
Talia, breathing hard, didn't press forward. She knew. They both knew.
Shiva hadn't lost so much as she hadn't fought hard enough to win. Even with the poison, Talia knew her chances of winning had simply increased from 10% to 50%.
Shiva was just that good. But at the last minute, she had seemed to change her mind and allowed Talia to pick up the win.
"Why?" Talia asked.
A sigh escaped Shiva. "Because he's my student. Good job, Lady Talia. Now it's 2,050-1."
With that, she sheathed her katana and left the silent Arena amidst the shock and disbelief.
Still, the outcome had been decided.
The League's warriors erupted in cheers, hailing Talia as the victor.
Damian didn't celebrate.
He clenched his jaw as he turned away before Talia could approach him. He was in no mood for anyone's crap and had some stress to work out.
Hours later, a sweaty and frustrated Damian found Shiva alone and unlike herself.
She sat beneath a gnarled tree at the edge of the island in her private Master's compound, a flask of sake in her hand, her usually sharp eyes glazed with amusement and something else—something he couldn't quite place.
She was… merry.
It was wrong.
Damian marched up to her, his voice low, controlled, but laced with anger. "You lost on purpose."
Shiva took a slow sip of her drink before answering. "I did."
The bluntness of her admission made his hands tighten into fists.
"Why?"
Shiva chuckled, shaking her head. "You noticed, of course. Wouldn't expect any less from my most promising student."
She set the flask down and turned her gaze toward the sunset-lit sea. "Do you remember what I told you when you first arrived?"
Damian's mind flashed back to that moment—when he had first set foot on Infinity Island, when Shiva had stood before him like an unmovable mountain and told him that no one, not even her, was above the authority of the Demon's Head.
His eyes narrowed.
"So that's it?" he sneered. "You lost because you were ordered to?"
The words hit like a slap.
Shiva's expression hardened, and for the first time since the fight, she looked truly dangerous.
"Do not insult me, boy," she said, her voice suddenly sharp.
Damian didn't flinch, but his fury retreated to a simmer beneath his skin.
"I lost because I chose to," Shiva continued. "Because I wanted to give you something I couldn't."
Damian's breath came slow and measured. "What could Talia possibly give me that you can't?"
Shiva tilted her head, watching him as if he were a child who still had much to learn.
"Power is not just fists and blades, Ashura," she said. "A tree with many roots grows bigger than one with few. If you seek true, universal strength, then you must look beyond martial arts. Beyond chi. Beyond your abilities."
Damian's jaw clenched. He understood her words, but he hated them.
He hated that she was right. A bullet shot by a weakling could kill a Tiger. The path to the kind of power he sought had and would never be straight.
Shiva had taken him as far as she could.
If he wanted to grow stronger, he had to let Talia shape him.
The realization settled in his chest like a stone.
He exhaled sharply, turning on his heel. "You should stop drinking," he muttered, his voice quieter than before. "It makes you sound sentimental."
Shiva chuckled as he walked away, raising her flask in mock salute.
"Sentiment is for the weak of the pack. Not Alphas like the Ashura." she said, her voice filled with amusement. "And yet, you are still here, asking for guidance."
Damian didn't respond.
He didn't have one.
But as he walked back toward the League's fortress, his thoughts were already shifting.
If Shiva believed Talia had something worth learning, then he would take it. He would learn everything she had to teach.
Not because he trusted her.
Not because he wanted to.
But because he would never allow himself to be second best.
Not to Jason.
Not to Shiva.
Not to anyone.