The crisp air bit at my skin as I trudged through the dense woods, the weight of the camping backpack digging into my shoulders.
It had been over ninety minutes since we left the compound, and the old man—Ra's al Ghul, the Demon's Head himself—hadn't said a word since we started this little nature hike. Typical. The guy loved his dramatic silences almost as much as he loved hearing himself talk.
The woods were alive with the sounds of nature—rustling leaves, chirping birds, the occasional snap of a twig underfoot. It was almost peaceful, if you ignored the fact that I was following a centuries-old megalomaniac into the middle of nowhere with no idea what he had planned.
The snow had stopped falling, thank God, but the ground was still a mess of slush and mud. My boots were caked with it, and my jeans were soaked up to the knees.
Ra's moved ahead of me with that infuriating grace of his, his hands clasped behind his back like he was out for a leisurely stroll. Meanwhile, I was sweating under the weight of the backpack, my breath coming out in visible puffs in the freezing air.
We weren't even dressed for this weather—just our normal clothes. No coats, no gloves, nothing. Because why would Ra's al Ghul bother with something as mundane as warmth?
He stopped suddenly, and I nearly ran into him. He stood there, staring ahead like he was contemplating the mysteries of the universe.
Then, without a word, he turned right, pushing through a thicket of waist-high bushes and towering trees. The canopy above was so dense that barely any sunlight filtered through, casting the area in an eerie, almost oppressive darkness.
"Great," I muttered under my breath. "Just the kind of place I'd pick for a picnic. If I were, you know, a serial killer."
Ra's didn't respond. Of course he didn't. He just kept walking, his movements smooth and deliberate, like he was gliding over the uneven terrain. I stumbled after him, cursing under my breath as branches snagged at my clothes and scratched my arms.
The muffled sound of running water grew louder as we pressed on, and eventually, we emerged into a small clearing.
Ra's stopped at the edge of a shallow stream, his gaze fixed on the waterfall that cascaded down a rocky outcrop.
It was beautiful, in a secluded, untouched kind of way. The water sparkled in the faint sunlight, and the air was filled with the soothing sound of it rushing over the rocks.
"We've arrived," Ra's said, breaking the silence at last. His voice was calm, almost serene, like he hadn't just dragged me through a mile of wilderness without explanation.
I caught up to him, dropping the backpack with a grunt. "Yeah, no kidding. Mind telling me where 'here' is exactly? Or is that part of the whole mysterious mentor shtick?"
He turned to me, his expression unreadable. "This is where you will be training for the next three days to a week, depending on how long it takes you to grasp the lessons I will be teaching you."
I raised an eyebrow. "Training? In the middle of nowhere? With no food, no shelter, and probably a million bloodthirsty mosquitoes? Sounds like a blast."
Ra's ignored my sarcasm, gesturing for me to follow him again. We walked to a clearing near the riverbank, where he told me to drop the bag. He picked up his sword and a length of rope, then motioned for me to follow him deeper into the woods.
"What kind of training requires us to be in the middle of Bumfuck, Nowhere?" I asked, my tone dripping with sarcasm. "Is this some kind of survivalist boot camp? Because I've heard about the whole 'eat bugs and drink your own pee' thing. Not a fan."
Ra's didn't answer. He just kept walking, his silence as infuriating as ever. We stopped in front of a massive tree, its trunk so thick it would've taken an axe-wielding man hours to bring it down.
Ra's drew his sword in one fluid motion, and before I could even blink, he delivered three precise horizontally patterned strikes. The tree fell with a loud crash, splitting into two large logs.
I stared at him, my mouth hanging open. "Okay, that was… impressive. But also kind of overkill. You know we are literally surrounded by easily attainable firewood, right?"
He sheathed his sword and handed me the rope. "Use this to pull both of them back, together."
I took the rope, glaring at him. "Oh, sure. No problem. I'll just drag a couple of tree trunks through the woods like a pack mule. Why didn't I think of that?"
He clasped his hands behind his back and walked away, leaving me to wrestle with the logs. I tied the rope around them as tightly as I could, then slung it over my shoulder and started pulling.
It was hell. The logs caught on every rock and root, and my muscles burned with the effort. Sweat dripped down my face, and my breath came in ragged gasps.
"This isn't training," I muttered under my breath. "This is punishment. Probably for asking too many questions. Note to self: stop prying into the life of the immortal ninja warlord. He doesn't like it."
By the time I dragged the logs back to the clearing, I was ready to collapse. Ra's had set up a small fire pit, and he gestured for me to place the logs on either side of it. I dropped them with a groan, then sank to the ground, trying to catch my breath.
Ra's sat across from me, his expression as calm as ever. "While you catch your breath, I believe it is best I keep to my word and give you answers to your questions earlier."
I shot him a look. "Really? Now you're feeling chatty? After you made me haul half a forest back here? Gee, thanks."
He chuckled softly, stroking his beard. "I spent my years cultivating wisdom and accumulating knowledge, practicing and mastering all sorts of martial arts. My later years were spent on the study and practice of ancient esoteric knowledge."
"Esoteric knowledge, huh?" I said, raising an eyebrow. "You mean like how to be cryptic and annoy the hell out of people? Because you've got that down pat."
He Ignored the jab. "Having lived as long as I have, there are downsides. Watching humanity repeat the same mistakes, generation after generation, is… frustrating."
"Yeah, I bet," I said, my tone dripping with sarcasm. "Must be tough, being all wise and immortal while the rest of us idiots keep screwing up. But hey, at least you've got your priorities straight. Like bringing me back from the dead. Speaking of which—why me?" I've been meaning to ask him that. Last time I did, he found a way to evade providing a direct answer.
Ra's met my gaze, his expression serious. "Because a mistake I made cost you your life. You were collateral damage." He replied.
I stared at him, my sarcasm momentarily forgotten. "What kind of mistake?"
"You were at the wrong place at the wrong time," he said, his voice heavy with something that almost sounded like regret. "You were caught in an explosion caused by someone I never should have employed."
I opened my mouth to ask more, but he cut me off. "You've rested enough. It's time to commence your training."
I groaned, dragging myself to my feet. "Of course it is. Because why would we waste time talking when we could be doing more manual labor?"
Ra's didn't respond. He just stood there, his hands clasped behind his back as always, looking every bit the enigmatic mentor. I sighed, resigning myself to whatever fresh hell he had in store for me.
"Alright, old man," I said, cracking my knuckles. "Let's get this over with."
Ra's led me back toward the waterfall, his steps unhurried, as if he had all the time in the world. Which, I guess, he did. Immortality must be nice like that—no rush, no deadlines, just centuries of cryptic wisdom and dramatic pauses. Meanwhile, I was stuck playing catch-up, my muscles still screaming from dragging those damn logs.
The waterfall roared in the background, its mist cooling the air around us. Ra's stopped at the edge of the stream, where the water pooled into a shallow, crystal-clear basin. He turned to me, his expression unreadable.
"Advanced stealth," he began, his voice carrying over the sound of the rushing water, "is not merely about moving unseen. It is about becoming one with your surroundings. Your mind must be as still as the surface of an undisturbed lake, your body as fluid as the current of this water."
I crossed my arms, raising an eyebrow. "So, what? I'm supposed to, like, meditate by the river and hope I turn into a ninja? Because I've got to tell you, I'm not really the 'ohm' type."
Ra's didn't smile, but there was a flicker of amusement in his eyes. "Meditation is only the beginning. Your mind is restless, Jason. It is clouded by anger, by self doubt, by the noise of your past shadow which tries to sabotage whatever ounce of peace you might achieve. Until you learn to silence it, you will never master true stealth."
Flashes of my encounter with the hallucination—that eerily lifelike version of myself—haunted my thoughts. Sleep had become elusive since then, my nights restless and frayed at the edges.
The way I had killed Khalid's guard— so inhumanly—weighed on me. Two lives, extinguished by my hand. No matter how often I told myself they deserved worse, no matter how I justified it, their deaths lingered in my conscience like a stain I couldn't scrub away.
I snorted. "Yeah, well, maybe my 'restless mind' has something to do with the fact that I died and got thrown into a magic pit that brought me back wrong. Ever think of that?"
He tilted his head, studying me like I was some kind of puzzle he was trying to solve. "The Lazarus Pit did not make you 'wrong,' Jason. It amplified what was already within you. Your anger, your pain—these are not weaknesses. They are tools, if you learn to wield them."
"Tools, huh?" I said, my voice dripping with sarcasm. "Great. So instead of therapy, I get to channel my trauma into becoming a better assassin. Sign me up."
Ra's ignored my jab, gesturing to the stream. "Step into the water."
I blinked at him. "You're kidding, right? It's freezing out here."
"The cold is irrelevant," he said, his tone leaving no room for argument. "Step into the water."
I muttered a string of curses under my breath but did as he said, kicking off my boots and wading into the stream. The water was icy, biting at my skin like a thousand tiny needles. I sucked in a sharp breath, my teeth clenched to keep them from chattering.
"Now," Ra's said, his voice calm and measured, "close your eyes. Focus on the sensation of the water around you. Let it guide your thoughts."
I closed my eyes, though I was pretty sure this was a waste of time. The water was cold, yeah, but it wasn't exactly enlightening. All I could think about was how much I wanted to get out and dry off.
"Your mind is still racing," Ra's observed, his voice cutting through my thoughts. "You are fighting the current instead of letting it flow through you."
"Yeah, well, maybe I don't feel like flowing today," I shot back, opening my eyes to glare at him. "Can we skip to the part where I get to punch something?"
Ra's sighed, a rare show of exasperation. "You are impatient, Jason. Impatience is the enemy of focus."
"And focus is the enemy of fun," I retorted. "Look, I get it. You're trying to teach me some deep, mystical lesson about inner peace or whatever. But I'm not exactly the poster child for Zen. So how about we try something that doesn't involve me turning into a popsicle man.
Ra's shook his head. "You're assuming I'll grow tired of your stubbornness—that I'll give up and switch to training you'd actually enjoy. You're only delaying the inevitable." His voice hardened. "Now shut up, close your eyes, and focus."
Finally, I'd struck a nerve. The old man had seemed immune to my jabs lately, but irritation flickered beneath his calm now.
Best not to push him further. I obeyed, shutting my eyes—yet even in the dark, I could feel the weight of his glare, sharp with frustration. Yeah… time to behave.