Damian Wayne Chapter 40: Ashura vs Raksasha part 1/2.

Chapter 40: Ashura vs Raksasha part 1/2.

(Richard Dragon P.O.V)

Look at them.

The boy fights like he’s burning alive. Not with panic — with purpose. And her... Shiva. Always elegant. Always efficient. The way her blade curves between my Batalons' ribs and spines, she makes killing look graceful. There’s no wasted motion. No hesitation.

That used to be me.

But not anymore.

They think I’m building an army. They think I want power. Gotham. The League. The world.

They’re wrong.

I never wanted control. I never wanted titles or crowns. I only ever wanted one thing: to perfect the art.

Martial arts was the only thing that never failed me. Not once. Not when the world tried to crush me. Not when abandoned by family or when friends left. Not even when O-sensei died. It stayed. Pure. Honest. Brutal in its truth. But fair.

And when he died... I realized.

Even it had a limit.

The art I love has a ceiling — and my body was going to hit it. No matter how sharp my form, how deep my stance, how still my breath... I would slow. The greatest sin of all: I would become ordinary. And then I’d be gone.

I couldn’t accept that.

So I stopped pretending to be a man. I sacrificed everything for this one, sacred pursuit.

Perfection.

The martial arts should not die with me. They deserve more. A vessel beyond time. A body not constrained by age or flesh.

Damian...

That boy is the key.

The Demon energy inside him, Ashura— it doesn’t bend to the rules. It doesn’t degrade. It evolves. I’ve studied it. I’ve tracked its pulses. It’s raw, chaotic, dangerous... but if I could make it mine—

No.

When I make it mine...

The art will live forever. Flowing through the perfect vessel. The final form. Me.

They think this is war.

It’s not.

This is sacrifice.

I gave up my soul so that the art could ascend.

And if I have to kill every last one of them — Shiva, the boy, every last bat and blade — to reach it...

So be it.

Martial arts will not die in the dirt with old men and their regrets.

It will rise with me.

Unbreakable. Undying.

Perfect.

(General P.O.V)

The Batalons came fast. Wings too heavy for flight flapped anyway, propelling the hulking monsters across the swamp surface. Their claws scraped stone, tore through vines, and shrieked like beasts that had forgotten what it meant to be human.

Damian moved in close—eyes sharp, focus absolute.

One slash. A twist of his wrist. Cassandra’s katana cut through the first Batalon’s neck, and the head rolled into the glowing moss.

Its body didn’t fall. It liquefied. A surge of corrupted Chi rose from the remains and streaked across the chamber—joining the others.

He saw it. Saw what was coming.

“Damn it…”

But there was no time to reflect. Another Batalon lunged. Damian moved low, slicing through a thigh bone. He turned, pivoted, blocked the swipe of a second one. He was fast—but there were too many.

Behind him, Shiva danced.

Where he cut, she erased.

She moved like a ghost of violence—no wasted effort, no hesitation. Her blade carved into the monsters with fluid finality. Each swing split joints, bisected torsos, or redirected attacks with bone-snapping precision. She wasn’t just killing them. She was clearing a path.

A path to Richard.

He stood calmly on the pulsating pod in the center of the swamp, suspended just above the writhing vines that fed the chamber. Shiva made it to him first.

She launched upward, landed on the pod’s side, and pressed the attack.

Richard met her.

What followed was not a brawl. It was a masterclass. Each clash of hands, feet, elbows, knees echoed through the swamp chamber like thunder. Strikes were met, redirected, countered, feinted, and recast. The surface of the giant egg-pod cratered beneath their feet. Water leapt up and danced around them. Damian could only watch from the ground, forced to split his attention between battling for his life and witnessing two titans clash.

Shiva cut into Richard’s torso with a diagonal slash. Blood sprayed.

She stepped back and raised her blade. “I’ll give you one chance. Cut off one arm. Repay Cassandra’s pain with your own. Do that—and I’ll consider this debt settled.”

Richard wiped the blood from his chest, watched it heal almost instantly.

He gave her a small smile.

“You were always the better killer,” he said. “O-Sensei’s perfect blade. I was just the best student.”

He stepped forward.

“But that was before. I’m not the same Richard anymore.”

His voice darkened.

“You can take your ‘reasonable’ offer—”

He snapped his fingers.

“—and shove it.”

The swamp behind him rose.

No hands. No incantations. Just Chi. Massive, rippling control. A wall of liquid water—a tsunami of Lazarus corruption—came crashing forward.

Shiva’s response was immediate. She leapt and swung.

Her sword carved the wave in half, edge glinting with bright Chi.

But she didn’t land.

She grunted—something latched to her legs.

Vines. Invisible at first. Now glowing, wrapping up from the pod, binding her arms and torso. She slashed once, twice—no effect. They weren’t physical. They were Chi-based constructs.

Her body stiffened.

“They’re draining my energy—”

Below, Damian’s heart jumped. “Sifû!”

But he was surrounded.

The Batalons regrouped. Their numbers smaller now—but not gone. Damian’s sword moved in tight arcs. Every kill turned into a new problem. Each fallen Batalon bled out corrupted Chi that streamed toward a central point.

The chamber darkened.

He saw it.

The Chi from the fallen monsters—joining.

Pooling.

Condensing.

They formed a singular body.

A giant.

Its scream wasn’t natural.

A sonic blast rattled Damian’s ears and skull. He lost balance—dropped his blade—felt the air crushed from his lungs as a massive green fist struck his chest and launched him into the stone wall.

The katana slid across the floor.

Damian gasped, blood on his lips.

The sonic pulse still rang in his head.

Above, Richard descended slowly toward the bound Shiva.

“You’re just in time,” he said. “To witness perfection.”

His bare chest gleamed with interwoven streaks of red, green, and white Chi—thousands of different energies swirling in his body like a perfect storm.

“I’m done being human. I intend to break past the boundaries of biology, talent, and fate.”

Shiva glared through gritted teeth. “Then you intend to die.”

He chuckled.

“Not if I finish the transformation. Not if I become a true Raksasha. ”

She blinked in shock. “The Shapechanger Demon? You're out of your mind!”

“Exactly.” Richard’s voice carried the conviction of a zealot. “A being who can continuously evolve—bones, muscles, reflexes, Chi flow—every time I reach a limit, I’ll shift beyond it. An infinite loop of improvement.”

“That’s not evolution. That’s cheating fate,” Shiva snapped.

“Yes,” he whispered. “Which is why I needed the Lazarus Chi to start. Why I absorbed every bit of Natural Chi down here. Why I created the Batalons. Why I studied every Unnatural energy variant I could find.”

His eyes glinted.

“But to complete the process—I needed a catalyst.”

He turned his head slightly, gaze shifting to the bloody shore where Damian was fighting an endless supply of foes.

“Damian’s Ashura energy.”

Shiva’s expression froze.

Richard continued.

“Pure Unnatural Chi. Not born of this world. Demon essence forged into living power. If I take it—merge it with what I already possess—then the transformation will be complete.”

Damian coughed, dragging himself back to his feet, green blood dripping off his body and sword.

Shiva's voice cracked.

“This whole thing... was about him?”

Richard smiled wider than ever before.

“Everything.”

"Let her go!"

Damian growled, cleaving 6 Batalons with his Tattoo whips. A phantom step towards Shiva was hastily abandoned as a Batalon exploded to his front, sending him back onto the shore.

Richard seemed determined to keep him away.

“You see, Sandra” Richard continued, voice smooth, cold, “I’m close. But not complete.”

He gestured toward her bound form, arms wrapped tight by the Chi-draining vines from the egg-like pod.

“I need more energy. Just a little more. The Chi of O-Sensei’s deadliest student… and the Ashura force of Ra’s al Ghul’s heir. That will do it. That will trigger the ascension.”

Shiva snarled and strained against her bonds. “Coward. You hide behind tricks. You always did.”

The vines tugged harder, pulling her toward the center.

The egg pod quivered—then cracked.

It peeled open like a blooming flower.

But inside, there weren’t petals.

There were rows of serrated teeth. Wet, layered, twitching. The core pulsed like a beating heart. An orb of Chi synthesized from stolen energy, of which Shiva would soon meet a similar fate.

Damian’s pupils dilated.

“STOP!” he screamed. “STOPP!!”

His voice broke.

But the vines didn’t.

They dragged Shiva into the pod. She didn’t yell in fear. She yelled in rage, in defiance, blade still thrashing wildly, but it didn’t matter. The teeth snapped shut.

The sound echoed like a final breath.

And just like that—she was gone.

Something cracked inside Damian. Not a bone. Not a tendon.

Something deeper.

He fell to his knees, sword clattering beside him.

His master. The woman who’d trained him to become more than just a tool. Who had rebuilt him when everyone else gave up. Gone. Just like that.

It didn’t make sense. Shiva didn’t die.

She was invincible.

But now...

The Batalons sensed the change. They closed in, silent but eager, hulking forms sliding across the mossy surface. Dozens of them. Maybe more.

Damian barely noticed.

His body didn’t hurt anymore. It was numb.

A quiet thought entered his mind.

What if this is it?

What if he let go? Dropped the sword. Let the monsters take him. Died here in the dark, where nobody would remember him as anything but a failed ‘Alpha.’ No more pressure. No more pretending. Shiva would be waiting on the other side. So would Cassandra. Maybe.

He started to release his grip.

The blade slipped from his fingers.

Then—

A blast shook the chamber.

A cloud of smoke, then flashlights cutting through the darkness.

A figure dropped beside him, cape flaring.

A gauntlet-clad hand rested on his shoulder.

“Thank God we made it in time,” Batman said.

Behind him, chaos erupted.

Red Robin launched into the fray, staff spinning like a turbine, knocking back two Batalons. Nightwing’s electrified escrima sticks cracked against enemy skulls. Jason let off a controlled burst from a modified rifle, tagging targets around Damian. Batgirl flipped over a twisted root-vine, fired a stun net, and dropped three more.

The Batalons reeled. Momentum shifted.

He wasn't fighting alone anymore.

Damian looked up, blinking through blood and dust. His father’s eyes met his—no lectures, no questions.

Only focus.

“Can you stand?” Batman asked.

Damian didn’t answer. He didn’t need to.

He tightened his grip on the sword.

And stood.