The Summoner of Legends

He had always been aware that, in terms of raw strength or powers, he was at a disadvantage compared to his allies. He didn't have Superman's speed, Wonder Woman's resilience, or the reality-bending abilities of other Justice League members.

But that had never stopped him.

Over the years, he had done everything in his power to even the playing field. He pushed his body beyond its limits, mastered martial arts to near perfection, and developed strategies that always kept him one step ahead of his enemies. Specialized armor, cutting-edge gadgets, environmental mastery, and contingency plans for every possible scenario—even for his own allies.

Sure, they called him paranoid, but he preferred to call it being prepared.

He had faced gods, demons, and villains with incomprehensible abilities, and he always found a way to prevail. Sometimes with ease; other times, at great cost. But never—not once—had he felt like he was out of options.

Until now.

From the moment he found the dead mobsters in that warehouse, he knew this wasn't an ordinary case. As the days passed and the bodies piled up, that feeling transformed into an undeniable truth. Something dark was stalking Gotham. Something different. Something that defied all the rules.

When he finally came face to face with the culprit, that latent sense of danger solidified into certainty. This wasn't human.

For the first time, Batman found himself fighting to survive—trapped in an uneven battle against a creature radiating pure malevolence. A beast—or perhaps a demon—that seemed to revel in every moment of its carnage.

"I should have called Constantine," he thought, narrowly dodging another slash aimed at separating his head from his body. The blade passed dangerously close to his neck, close enough for him to feel the icy edge cutting through the air.

That maneuver snapped him back to the grim reality of the situation. He couldn't afford the luxury of distraction anymore.

------------------------------

Less than five minutes had passed since the fight began, but for Batman, it felt like an eternity. Every second was a deadly game where his life hung by a thread.

The narrow hallway they fought in offered him little room to maneuver, something his enemy was clearly exploiting. He hadn't had a single opportunity to counterattack—the creature simply refused to relent, moving with terrifying speed and precision.

Every strike was lethal. If Batman even thought about throwing a punch, the monster immediately countered with the blades on its opposite arm, always aiming for fatal injuries.

As he continued to retreat, Batman realized he was being forced into the end of the hallway. He couldn't let this go on. An even more confined space would put him in an untenable situation.

"I need to turn this around. Now."

------------------------------

When the next slash aimed at his neck missed by mere inches, Batman seized the opportunity. With a calculated move, he sidestepped and delivered a powerful kick straight to the creature's torso, trying to create some distance. The force of the impact pushed it back slightly, but the monster didn't seem fazed.

"It doesn't feel pain?"

Wasting no time, Batman followed up with a strike aimed at the beast's head. But his enemy, far from standing still, reacted with unnatural speed.

The creature raised its left arm and slashed directly at Batman's right side. Realizing the danger, Batman abandoned his original plan and used the momentum from his kick to twist his body and evade.

But it wasn't enough.

The blade's edge missed his torso by mere millimeters, but the length of the weapon still managed to graze him. A long, shallow cut tore through his suit, ripping the fabric as if it were paper.

------------------------------

Batman's breathing quickened for a moment as he stepped back. He knew his suit wasn't the most durable one in his arsenal, but he trusted it to withstand most attacks. Now, however, he understood that these blades were something else. They weren't just ordinary weapons.

"This isn't normal steel. Something's off."

The creature didn't give him time to analyze further. It immediately launched another attack, this time aiming a quick slash at Batman's left arm.

With agile movements, he dodged the strike, twisting his body to evade it. At the same time, he tried to deliver a kick to the monster's head, hoping to throw it off balance. But his enemy seemed to have anticipated that move.

The creature's right arm swept in a fast arc, this time aiming a slash at Batman's leg. The angle and speed of the strike made it nearly impossible to avoid.

It was then that Batman turned to one of his most reliable tools.

From his utility belt, he pulled one of his signature Batarangs and hurled it with pinpoint precision.

The projectile flew straight toward the creature's face, forcing it to pull back. For the first time since the fight began, the beast was compelled to stop its relentless advance.

"One second, that's all I need," Batman thought, quickly adjusting his position and preparing to turn the tide of the battle.

------------------------------

The Batarang exploded on impact. The blast was strong enough to force the creature backward, making it retreat a few steps. The explosion created a brief opening—just enough time for Batman to pull his leg out of the deadly reach of the blades.

However, he didn't escape unscathed. A shallow wound remained on his leg, a reminder of how close he had come to losing it entirely.

The smoke from the explosion filled the hallway. Batman, still crouched, watched as the figure of his enemy remained hidden within the dense gray curtain. But the calm didn't last long.

With a swift and violent motion, the creature pushed the smoke aside as if it were nothing more than a minor inconvenience. There it stood, shrouded in shadows, completely unscathed.

"Not a single scratch," Batman thought in frustration, stepping back. He didn't have time to analyze further—his enemy was already charging at him, both blades ready to strike.

Batman barely managed to leap backward to avoid the twin slashes aimed directly at his torso. The blades, upon hitting the walls, floor, and ceiling, left deep gashes. The concrete was torn apart as if it were paper, a testament to how lethal those weapons were.

Wasting no time, Batman threw several smoke bombs onto the ground, creating a barrier between him and his adversary. Smoke had always been one of his greatest allies in close combat, allowing him time to think, to analyze… and to strike.

But this enemy wasn't like his usual foes.

Hidden in the shadows, Batman waited to hear his opponent's footsteps or any sound that might alert him. But what he didn't expect was the swift attack heading his way.

Without warning, one of the blades shot out from the smoke. The edge sliced directly across his abdomen, leaving a deep wound that made him stagger. Batman gritted his teeth to stifle the pain, but before he could react, another strike was already on its way.

Moving as quickly as he could, he tried to step back, but the creature's long limbs worked against him. The tip of one blade sank into his right shoulder. Reflexively, Batman twisted his body to minimize the damage, preventing the blade from digging too deep. Still, the wound was enough to weaken the movement of his arm.

The combination of injuries began to take its toll. He could feel the blood soaking into his suit, streaming down from his abdomen to his legs. His movements grew slower, more sluggish.

"This isn't working," he thought as he took a few steps back, his mind racing to find an escape. "I can't beat it in close combat. I should've been better prepared for this."

The monster, however, was in no hurry. It advanced toward him slowly, savoring its advantage. Its steps, though floating, carried a palpable sense of menace.

—"Done wallowing yet?" the creature asked, its distorted, mocking voice dripping with sadistic delight.

Batman didn't answer immediately. He activated his communicator.

—"Alfred, call Flash. I need him here as fast as possible. This is a life-or-death emergency."

—"Understood, sir,"* Alfred replied, his voice tinged with worry.

Batman pulled a small container from his belt. With hands steady despite the pain, he sprayed its contents over the wounds on his abdomen and shoulder. The liquid burned as it made contact, but it stemmed the bleeding, buying him a little more time to stay on his feet.

—"I'm not done yet," he finally said, raising his gaze toward his enemy, his eyes burning with determination.

The communicator crackled back to life.

—"I've contacted him, Master Bruce. He says he'll be there as soon as possible. Please, take care of yourself, sir,"* Alfred responded, ending with a worried sigh.

Batman gave a slight nod to himself. "Now it's up to me to buy time," he thought, bracing himself for what was to come.

------------------------------

Without warning, the creature lunged again. This time, however, Batman was ready. With calculated precision, he threw an explosive Batarang directly at his opponent.

The explosion forced the creature to stagger back momentarily. That brief instant was all Batman needed to step forward and deliver a direct punch to its face.

The impact felt like hitting a wall of solid metal.

Pain shot through his hand, but he refused to let it slow him down. Drawing on a mix of raw strength and expert technique, he began delivering rapid strikes to various points on the creature's body, testing for any weaknesses.

His opponent, however, was far from an easy target. With a swift motion, the creature attempted to slash Batman with one of its blades, but he managed to catch its arm at the last second. Using every ounce of strength he could muster, he twisted the creature's body and hurled it against one of the hallway walls.

The impact was brutal—but not enough.

Even as it was being thrown, the creature counterattacked. With its free arm, it lashed out with a quick, precise slash that struck Batman square across the back.

The pain made him gasp. The blade had opened a long, deep gash, and blood quickly began soaking into his cape.

"This isn't sustainable," he thought, stumbling back a few paces. Every second of this fight was draining more of his energy, more of his blood… and with it, more of his chances of walking away alive.

------------------------------

Batman delivered a powerful kick to his opponent's torso, pushing it back just enough to create a small gap between them. His dark, calculating eyes locked onto the monster before him. Blood ran freely from his wounds, soaking his suit and sticking uncomfortably to his skin. Every movement demanded more effort. The pain was unavoidable.

But he couldn't afford to fall.

The creature, on the other hand, seemed utterly unbothered. A mocking laugh echoed down the narrow hallway, reverberating like a chilling soundscape. Without giving him a moment to recover, the monster charged forward again, swinging both blades in a deadly crosscut designed to finish Batman with a single strike.

"It's not giving me a second to breathe," he thought, his instincts screaming at him to move.

With desperate effort, he leaped backward, narrowly dodging the lethal strike. The blades sliced through the air just inches from him, leaving a cold, sharp sensation in their wake. But as he landed, his heart sank—he realized the truth.

He had reached the end of the hallway.

His back pressed against the wall.

The space was gone. There was no room left to retreat. His eyes hardened, his expression darkened, and his mind began frantically searching for an escape. He couldn't afford to fall here.

"Think, damn it. There's always a way out."

Without hesitation, he threw another pair of explosive Batarangs—this time aiming at the ground in front of the creature. The detonations shook the hallway, collapsing part of the floor and leaving a gaping hole leading to the level below. The creature stumbled momentarily, losing its footing for a split second.

Batman seized the opportunity. He fired another Batarang, this one equipped with a grappling cable, anchoring it into the wall behind him. With a powerful pull, he used the cable to hoist himself up, avoiding the collapsing floor beneath him.

But the creature didn't fall.

It floated.

From his vantage point in the air, Batman watched in disbelief as the monster effortlessly hovered over the debris, shrouded in the swirling black smoke that replaced its legs. The twin blades in its arms glinted ominously in the faint light filtering through the shattered windows. The air around it seemed to grow colder with each passing moment.

"Of course it can fly," Batman thought bitterly, his jaw tightening. "Nothing about this has been normal so far. Why would that change now?"

The monster raised its blades, aiming them at Batman, and began to glide toward him, drifting over the chasm as though gravity had no hold over it. The soulless white gaze emanating from its helmet bore down on the Dark Knight, as if piercing straight into his core.

With no more time to hesitate, Batman made a decision he knew was extraordinarily risky. He had to act.

Bracing his legs against the wall where he was suspended, he prepared for a counterattack. He just needed one second. One single second to turn the fight around.

He waited until the last possible moment, until the creature was close enough to strike. And then, like a coiled spring, he launched himself toward his enemy.

The move was so sudden that even the monster seemed momentarily caught off guard. But the being, fast and lethal, recovered almost immediately. Its arms moved with deadly precision, raising both blades in a crossing arc meant to cut through Batman mid-flight.

An unavoidable collision. A desperate gamble.

"It's now or never," Batman thought, his mind ice-cold despite the peril. "One second can change everything."

As he flew toward his enemy, the air seemed to thicken, as if time itself were slowing down. Both of them knew that whatever happened in that instant would decide the fate of one of them.

The silence was absolute. Only the sound of the wind, the rapid beating of Batman's heart, and the faint echo of their breathing filled the space.

One second.

One single second to decide if the Bat would survive… or fall.