They reached the stronghold’s entrance: an ancient, arched doorway reinforced with heavy wooden beams. Jason gestured for the team to spread out along the walls, their bodies melting into the darkness, as they moved like phantoms through the shadows. The tension was palpable.

Jason crouched next to the door, glancing over his shoulder to ensure everyone was in position. He signaled to one of the soldiers, who silently approached, carrying a set of lockpicking tools. 

The soldier worked swiftly, expertly manipulating the lock mechanism. A soft click echoed in the silence, and the door slowly creaked open.

Jason’s breath was steady, despite the rising pressure. His mind was focused, each step calculated as he led the way inside.

The entry hall was dimly lit, the stone walls adorned with faded tapestries and the remnants of past grandeur. The atmosphere felt ancient, heavy with history and the faint smell of mildew. 

Jason’s boots barely made a sound on the cold stone floor as he moved deeper into the stronghold, the rest of the team following his lead.

They reached the first corridor, a narrow passageway that wound through the heart of the stronghold. The walls were lined with old armor and weapons, and the air felt thick with the weight of centuries-old secrets.

Jason motioned for his team to stop and listen. The faint sound of footsteps echoed from ahead, signaling that guards were still patrolling the area.

Jason’s heart began to beat faster, but not with fear. It was the rush of anticipation, the thrill of being on the edge, where every decision mattered. 

He was acutely aware of the adrenaline coursing through his veins, but he didn’t let it consume him. Instead, he used it, channeling it into focus.

He signaled for two of the soldiers to flank the passage while he and the remaining team member moved forward. They reached the next corner, peering around it just enough to spot the two guards stationed near the door leading deeper into the stronghold.

Jason studied the guards. One was leaning against the wall, arms crossed, while the other was walking the perimeter, his eyes scanning the area lazily. Jason had a brief moment to assess. This would be a clean take-down if done correctly.

With a subtle motion, he signaled the team. They moved as one, silently and fluidly. In the blink of an eye, the guard nearest to them collapsed without a sound, his throat slit before he could even react. The second guard barely had time to turn around before Jason was on him, a blade flashing across his throat.

He caught the guard’s body before it hit the ground, lowering it gently to avoid noise. He exhaled slowly, his breath steady, though his heart beat with the rush of the kill. The bloodlust was still there, swirling beneath the surface, but he didn’t let it take over. He focused on the task. One step at a time.

They moved through the stronghold with lethal efficiency, eliminating guards one by one. Each encounter was swift, silent, and calculated. Jason was in his element. 

The world felt clearer, his mind sharp and focused as he relied on his training. This was no longer about for the thrill of violence. This was about control—about mastering his surroundings and using them to his advantage.

Eventually, they reached the inner sanctum of the stronghold. The main chamber was large, its walls adorned with more ornate tapestries and shelves filled with ancient books and scrolls. 

There was a large table in the center of the room, scattered with maps and documents. It looked like a command center, and he knew that the leader of the faction would have to be somewhere inside.

As they entered, the soldiers spread out, taking up strategic positions around the room. Jason stepped forward, his eyes scanning the dark for any signs of movement. 

And then, he saw it, a silhouette of movement in the far corner. A figure, cloaked in within the dark, watching them.

Ra’s had been right. The leader was here.

Jason’s breath steadied as he sized up his opponent. The figure stepped into the dim light, revealing the leader’s face—a sharp, calculating gaze, framed by a greying beard and a hooded cloak. The man didn’t seem surprised by their arrival; in fact, he appeared almost expecting it.

“So, the League sends their most promising assassin,” the leader said, his voice smooth, almost amused. “So now the League send’s kids to do their biding.”

“That’s to show the League needs just one kid to end the likes of you, big guy.” His voice steady but tinged with the weight of what was at stake, sizing up the leader’s every move. 

The man had an air of calm confidence, but Jason knew better than to underestimate anyone in this line of work. He then signalled for the others to get inside.

The leader’s lips curved into a knowing smile. “Perhaps. But it’s not always that simple, is it? You’ve been trained well, but there’s one thing you’ve yet to learn.”

Jason’s brows furrowed in confusion. “What’s that?”

“That not all battles are fought with swords, Jason.” The leader’s voice was laced with an eerie calmness. “Sometimes, the greatest weapon is the mind.”

Jason’s senses flared as he immediately felt the air shift around him. The door slammed shut behind him, locking them inside.

“Fuck!” He cursed under his breath, realizing too late that this had all been a trap.

“What’s the play now?” one of the soldiers whispered.

Jason’s mind raced. He had to act quickly. They’d been led into a position of vulnerability, and the leader wasn’t alone.

He heard the sound of doors opening on either side, and he turned just in time to see several more guards emerging from hidden compartments in the walls. They were surrounded.

“Kill them all,” Jason said with cold certainty. His voice was low, but his command was final. The mission wasn’t over yet—not by a long shot.

The battle erupted In the confines of the chamber, swords clashing, blades singing through the air. Jason’s mind slowed, calculating his every move. 

The bloodlust surged within him, but he kept it in check. His body moved like a machine, each strike, each maneuver calculated with brutal precision.

He fought through the enemy forces, his body fluid and relentless. But as they took down the last of the guards, the true test began. He stood, breathing heavily, his eyes locked onto the leader, who was still watching from across the room.

“You’re stronger than I expected,” the leader said, his smile faltering. “But you are much too naive.”

Jason’s grip tightened on his blade. He was done the chit-chat.

With a single, powerful leap, he charged toward the leader, ready to end this once and for all.

“This ends now,” Jason growled.

The leader didn’t move. Instead, he reached into his cloak and withdrew a small vial, uncorking it with a quick flick of his wrist. He tossed it toward Jason, the liquid inside shimmering in the dim light.

Jason’s instincts screamed at him to dodge, but it was too late. The vial shattered in the air, releasing a cloud of toxic gas that hit him square in the chest.

His vision blurred, and his body began to feel heavy. He fought against the poison, but his limbs grew weaker with each passing second. 

The bloodlust that had been simmering in him boiled over, but in this moment of weakness, it consumed him fully.

He staggered, falling to his knees, his breath ragged and shallow.

“You’ve lost,” the leader said softly, walking toward him.

With disoriented thoughts, Jason struggled against the effects from the poison. He hadn’t lost. Not yet.

With a final, desperate push, he lunged forward, taking the leader by surprise. The two collided, and Jason’s blade found its mark.

The mission was over.

                                          ****

[Jason Todd’s POV]

I trudged through the corridors of the fortress, each step feeling like an eternity after the chaos of the mission. The poison from that damn vial was still crawling through my veins, sluggish but persistent, trying to drag me under. 

I could feel the burning in my chest, the thirst for violence that the Lazarus Pit had embedded deep within me. That familiar, maddening pull—the bloodlust that never quite let me go.

But I wasn’t about to let that happen. Not here. Not now.

I wiped my blood-soaked hands on my cloak and pushed the door to Ra’s study open with a quiet grunt. The room inside was just as sterile and imposing as always. 

Massive bookshelves lined the walls, filled with dusty tomes and ancient scrolls. The desk in the center was impeccably neat, as if Ra’s had never seen a moment of disarray in his life. 

I hated it. Everything about this place felt like a mausoleum—cold, precise, and lifeless.

Ra’s sat behind the desk, one of his many unreadable expressions fixed on his face. Without looking up from whatever nonsense he was studying, he spoke.

“You’ve returned.” It wasn’t a question. It was a statement, as if he had been expecting me the entire time. “Report.”

I stood there for a moment, watching him, as if he was some distant relative I didn’t particularly care for. This was the man who had taken me in, the man who had resurrected me and trained me, but I didn’t feel much of anything for him. It wasn’t hate, nor was it gratitude. It was just… indifference.

“Your little trap nearly worked,” I said dryly, walking over to the table. I leaned against the corner, staring at the dark lines on the map he was studying. “Almost got me with that toxic gas, but I managed to finish the job. One less stronghold to worry about.”

Ra’s looked up at me then, his dark eyes flicking over me with a calculated, almost amused glance. “I never expected you to fail, Jason. But your ability to recover from mistakes is impressive.”

I raised an eyebrow, fighting the urge to roll my eyes. “So, you planned it all along? To test my reaction or something?”

He didn’t answer right away, instead choosing to study me like a scientist observing a specimen under a microscope. It didn’t bother me. Nothing ever did when it came to him.

“Yes, and no. The test was not for you, but for your instincts,” Ra’s said, folding his hands in front of him. 

“You are learning to think, to act beyond impulse. But the bloodlust, Jason—your rage. It remains your greatest enemy and yet it could be your greatest weapon if you learn to wield it.”

I felt the familiar surge of anger and frustration. It was always the same with him, wasn’t it? The same damn speech, every time. 

That part of me I couldn’t control—the part that wanted to rip everything to shreds. I clenched my fists, pushing down the growing heat in my chest, trying to ignore it.

“I know,” I muttered, trying to focus. “I’ll get it under control. You don’t need to remind me.”

Ra’s didn’t respond to that, instead taking a long pause before speaking again.

“Perhaps not. But that is why I’ve arranged something for you.”

I frowned. “Something?”

Before I could even register what he meant, the heavy wooden door behind me creaked open.

A presence—cold, sharp, and utterly controlled—cut through the room like a drawn blade. The soft click of boots against the polished floor followed, each step measured, confident. 

The air itself seemed to shift in deference as she entered. Her long, dark trench coat flared slightly with her movement before settling back against her frame, a deliberate kind of fluidity that spoke of someone who never made an unnecessary motion.

I turned just as she stopped a few feet away, my gaze immediately locking onto the figure who had entered.

She was tall—too tall for most women, with a grace that somehow felt lethal even in the stillness of the room. Her posture effortless yet exuding a quiet, lethal authority. And the moment she spoke, I knew this wasn’t just any League assassin.

Ra’s, ever composed, gestured slightly in her direction, his voice smooth with a hint of amusement.

“You most likely do not know whom our guest might be,” he said, his words carrying an unspoken weight.

He paused for a fraction of a second before continuing, letting the moment stretch just enough.

“This,” he finally announced, his tone carrying a note of reverence, “is Lady Shiva.”

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep