"Tatsu!"Shiva's tone dripped with anger as her gaze locked on the katana.

"You dare appear before me wielding the Soul Thief? Or have you forgotten that this artifact belongs to the League of Shadows?"

Tatsu's lips curled into a defiant grin as she raised the blade, its steel tip cutting the air toward Shiva.

"My memory is excellent," she retorted. "I remember just as clearly that you once seized this weapon by force. So spare me your sanctimony, Shiva."

The League's most feared assassin narrowed her eyes but did not lower her voice when she turned to me.

"Alex," she said, her words clipped and heavy with menace. "Accept Ra's al Ghul's favor and join our cause. Do this, and we will forgive Yamashiro's transgression. Return the Soul Reaver, and in return we will spare her life. We will even grant you mercy, erasing the grudges between us."

I raised an eyebrow at her.

"Do you always talk like this?" I cut in wryly. "You're a remarkably bad negotiator, Shiva. From the very start, you speak as if you're towering above us—draped in control, believing you hold every card. But you're mistaken." I shook my head and began walking toward her, slow, deliberate, hands folded behind my back. "We're on equal footing here. And every word you speak only fractures the thin stability of these negotiations further."

I stopped mere meters away—three steps from the deadliest woman alive—and still I showed no fear.

Her steel-hard gaze studied me, baffled yet intrigued.

"Your fearlessness astounds me," Shiva finally admitted. "Do you not fear death? But don't worry I can show you fear." Shiva tilted her head ever so slightly, the faintest smile playing on her lips.

"That might be more true than you think. Yet I cannot comprehend… how does one live utterly unacquainted with fear?" I replied, my voice an octave low.

"I can show you fear," she whispered, though her tone struck more like thunder.

Then it came.

The full weight of Shiva's murderous aura descended upon me, raw and suffocating. It thundered down like a mountain avalanche, an invisible tide that smelled of iron and grave soil. I could see in it—the rivers of blood, the unfathomable tally of lives extinguished by her blades. An endless slaughter condensed into a single suffocating presence.

If any ordinary soul had stood in my place, they would have collapsed instantly: quivering, pale, broken—likely soiled in terror. That was the immensity of Shiva's killing intent.

But me? I only felt an itch behind my ear.

Her glare sharpened when she realized her intimidation had failed. Frowning, she unleashed her bloodlust at full force. Yet astonishment began to flicker in her eyes as she watched me hold steady, unmoved.

"You are… beyond gifted," Jade Canary admitted, disbelief creeping into her words. "Few could stand upright in the face of that. You might become the greatest assassin our clan could ever mold…"

I gave a faint smile. "A kind compliment, but wasted. I refuse. From what I've seen, your clan treats its own people like expendable tools. I won't rot myself in that system."

For some moments, silence hung sharp in the air, balanced on the knife's edge of imminent battle.

"Well then," I asked quietly. "Is this where words end? Should we fight?"

Shiva's lips touched the barest smile of anticipation. "Why not?"

"Because the advantage," I countered, "is far from yours."

Her eyes narrowed, but I lifted a hand to still further argument.

"Let's play this out, shall we? Imagine the battle begins. You—without question a living grandmaster—will face both Alexandra and Tatsu at once. Even for someone of your caliber, you cannot swiftly dispatch these two without strain. There exists, whether you'll admit it or not, a chance—however slim—that you lose."

Shiva gave a short exhale, dismissive. "Unlikely."

"Possible," I corrected evenly. "And while you focus on them, you forget me. On their level of direct combat, they surpass me. True. But I am not limited to mere strikes and parries. You've felt hints of what else I carry. This means the outcome is hardly sealed—you may win, but the fight could end in stalemate… or worse."

Her reply was a sharp scoff. "And what of it? In the end, once I stand over your bodies. The battle does not end in your favor."

I leaned forward slightly, lowering my voice.

"Not necessarily—because you underestimate the third presence."

Her gaze sharpened at once.

"You felt it too, didn't you?" I gestured toward the shrouded corner steeped in darkness. "From the moment we began, we've been watched. That third player has measured us carefully all along. And if the fight sparks, they will side with me. Then consider the math: three against one. And not mere soldiers—you know how dangerous that hidden factor is. Against them, even you, Lady Shiva, cannot dictate the result."

She tilted her head ever so slightly toward the darkened shadows. A flicker—a tension in her stance—betrayed that she felt that ominous watcher and grasped exactly how formidable the intruder was. For even the world's deadliest assassin, such a variable could overturn the battlefield.

At last, she drew her conclusion, her voice measured and firm.

"There will be no battle."

She straightened, her aura dispersing like smoke.

"My sole purpose here was to deliver the Demon's Head's word. That is done. The rest depends on your choice. Use what little time remains wisely—make no mistake, it dwindles." With that, she turned, already dissolving into the cloak of night.

"Wait."

She paused, her form still in shadow.

"I believe this belongs to you." I tossed something toward her—a small, near-invisible device I'd discovered earlier in Vavila.

She caught it effortlessly between two fingers, glanced briefly, then crushed it into fine dust with a casual squeeze. Metal and circuitry vanished into powder under her grip.

Even I grimaced. "That must have cost a fortune," I muttered. But she gave me no response. Without another word, Shiva vanished, her figures melting into the darkness as silently as they appeared.

Only then did I exhale. My chest tightened, air rushing free as tension uncoiled.

That was close. Too close.

They'd pressed me harder, and sooner, than I had ever expected. Why? What shifted inside the League to make my recruitment suddenly urgent? Something stirred within their order—I was certain of it. And certainty offered no comfort.

Thank every star above for Black Widow's shadowed surveillance. If not for Natasha, there's no telling how this confrontation would have ended. Of course, I had layered contingency plans—tactical retreat methods, survival routes—but they tasted of humiliation. A warrior may value life above pride, but tell that to Batman or Nightwing; they would never let me forget an ignoble escape.

So yes, Natasha had safeguarded my dignity tonight. I'd thank her someday—but never directly, never truthfully. No one must ever know. Gratitude must come cloaked beneath another excuse.

"I didn't think the League would come this soon," Tatsu murmured, running reverent fingers along the katana's edge. Its steel gleamed with foreboding in moonlight.

"What now?" Bordeaux asked, sliding her weapon back into its sheath, eyes sharp but steady.

"Now," I replied, still deep in thought, "we go to Babylon. Our doctors must be pushed harder. The super soldier serum must be finished. Time is no longer on our side."

Even as I said the words, the truth pressed more heavily upon me. For me, for all of us, retreat might keep us alive—but progress alone could guarantee our survival.

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