Seeing Downton joke with him, Ra's al Ghul's expression darkened. Without a word, he drew the straight sword from his waist.
With a fluid motion, he tossed the blade into the air.
As it spun, glinting in the light, Ra's al Ghul raised his right hand and caught the tip effortlessly between two fingers. He turned the weapon gracefully and offered the hilt to Downton, his left hand held loosely behind his back.
Downton glanced at the proffered sword, then calmly adjusted his trousers—fastening the buttons at his waist before straightening his belt. Only then did he reach out and take the blade, tucking it under his arm as he stepped aside to retrieve a leather belt from the ground. He looped it around his waist, cinching it tight.
Just as the buckle clicked into place, he looked up at Ra's al Ghul and smirked.
"What—you think it's unfair to fight me bare-handed, so you're handing me a sword? Real generous of you, old man. If you're so set on letting me win, why not toss me a Gatling gun instead?"
Ra's al Ghul fell silent.
For a moment, he wondered if he'd gravely misjudged this man.
Or worse…
Did he truly need a disciple with such a vulgar tongue to inherit his seven-hundred-year legacy?
Compared to this brash fool, even the stubborn, penny-pinching son-in-law his beloved daughter had chosen suddenly seemed… respectable.
Just as Ra's al Ghul's frown deepened, Downton finished securing his belt and lifted the sword.
The hilt—adorned with emerald inlays—led to a ninety-centimeter blade etched with a roaring dragon wreathed in flame. It was a masterpiece of craftsmanship.
Downton swung it a few times, testing its weight. Though he knew nothing of swordsmanship, the blade moved through the air with unnatural smoothness, as if eager to obey his will.
"It's a fine sword," he admitted. "But giving it to me is pointless. To someone who doesn't know how to wield it, a blade is just extra weight."
With that, he tossed the sword aside. It clattered to the ground.
Then, slowly, he curled his fingers into a fist. The knuckles cracked like dry twigs snapping underfoot.
He jerked his chin toward Ra's al Ghul. "I don't know why you're here. I don't care what your grand purpose is. But you're not here out of kindness—and I hate pretentious bastards who think they can lecture me."
His voice dropped, low and edged with steel.
"So quit wasting my time. I've got a meeting with a certain female paparazzo…. Ring any bells?"
Ra's al Ghul's eyes narrowed. "Oh?" A faint, almost amused tilt touched his lips. "You truly don't want to know what my name means?"
"Curiosity won't change what we are," Downton shot back. "Even if I learned your whole tragic backstory, we'd still end up trying to kill each other. And I'll tell you right now—the outcome stays the same: you dead, me breathing."
Before the last word fully left his mouth, Downton exploded forward.
Legs coiled like springs, he crossed the few meters between them in an instant—arms flaring wide, right fist drawn back like a taut bowstring aimed straight for Ra's al Ghul's skull.
Ra's al Ghul didn't flinch. Instead, he smiled—a cold, disdainful curl of the lips—and clasped both hands behind his back.
"A fist with no discipline," he said smoothly, "can never harm a true warrior. Consider this your first lesson."
He sidestepped the blow with inhuman grace, dipped low, and lashed out with his right leg—a razor-sharp kick aimed at Downton's ribs.
But Downton didn't dodge. Didn't block.
He caught the leg in both arms.
CRACK!
The impact was monstrous. Even ribs forged to withstand bullets splintered—two of them snapping clean under the force.
And yet…
Downton held fast. His left hand locked around Ra's al Ghul's ankle, while his right elbow snapped upward, driving hard into the shinbone with brutal precision.
Ra's al Ghul didn't react with shock. Of course he didn't.
As one of the undead, he understood his opponent's nature all too well.
Pain? Irrelevant.
Injury? Temporary.
What mattered was who stood at the end.
With effortless balance, Ra's al Ghul pushed off the ground with his free foot, using Downton's grip as a pivot. His body twisted midair in a half-circle, momentum whipping his suspended left leg forward like a serpent's strike—
—and the steel-reinforced toe of his boot punched straight into Downton's left eye socket.
SIZZLE!
The eye burst in a spray of viscous fluid.
But Downton's elbow never stopped its arc—crashing down again, harder this time, onto the same shin.
However, despite being certain his strike had landed, Downton felt no impact—no resistance at all.
In that instant, Ra's al Ghul's knee joint twisted unnaturally backward, forcing his right leg into a sharp V-shape and causing Downton's elbow to whistle harmlessly through empty air.
Before Downton could react, Ra's al Ghul yanked his leg free and wrapped both limbs around Downton's neck in a lightning-fast scissor motion.
Thump!
Ra's al Ghul completed a graceful backward somersault, using the momentum to drive Downton headfirst into the ground. The impact cracked the concrete beneath them.
Before Downton could rise, Ra's al Ghul lunged forward—his right hand snapping out like a dagger.
Splat!
Downton's right eye met the same fate as his left, bursting in a spray of blood.
But Ra's al Ghul wasn't finished. With a subtle flex of his forearm, his massive hand contracted violently, fingers slimming and elongating as they burrowed deep into the ruined eye socket.
Thud!
A muffled crunch echoed as Ra's al Ghul's sharpened finger bones punched through the inner wall of the skull, shredding the brain in an instant.
Downton's body erupted into violet flames—burning away to ash in seconds.
Ra's al Ghul withdrew his hand, wiping the gore on his sleeve as he looked down with cold superiority.
"I have mastered every martial art known to man. My body has long since become the ultimate killing instrument.
Downton—if you can still hear me—come to me again.
Either crush me with your futile brute strength…
or let me show you the true power I can bestow upon you.
Your potential astounds me. Such talent should never go to waste.
So—become my disciple, Downton."
As the last ember of Downton's corpse vanished, Ra's al Ghul stared thoughtfully at his right hand.
Disgusting as Downton's arrogance was, his raw talent was undeniably intoxicating.
And Ra's al Ghul had every reason to be confident. After all, he was a sage who'd walked the earth for over seven centuries—mentor to countless legends, conquerors, and warriors. He'd tamed disciples far more unruly than this one.
And Downton…?
Downton reappeared several meters away, shaking his head with a dry chuckle.
"He actually wants to take me as his apprentice? Does he think I'm an idiot?
Everything I know, I've forged in hundreds—thousands—of life-or-death battles. Death itself is my teacher.
Haven't I already seen his jujitsu? Memorized it? Mastered it?
And if I die a few hundred more times… hell, I can't even imagine how strong I'll become!
Why would I need some 'beginner's mentor'? Does he think I'm missing a father figure or something?"
He twitched his nose—a subtle, instinctive gesture.
With every death, his body evolved. His senses sharpened. His reflexes refined. Even his sixth sense now hummed with preternatural clarity.
He inhaled deeply through his nostrils—then snapped his gaze northeast, eyes blazing with predatory delight.
"Ra's al Ghul…"
A
slow, feral grin spread across his face.
"I can already smell your defeat."
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