The morning sun filtered through the monastery's ancient windows, casting long shadows across the stone corridors as Bruce, Hadrian, and Zatanna made their way to Dragon's study. The magical healing from the night before had worked with remarkable efficiency—Zatanna's intuitive understanding of restoration combined with Hadrian's newfound ability to channel power through the Dragon's Claw had mended bruises, sealed cuts, and eased the deep ache of battered muscles. Still, they all moved with the careful precision of people who remembered exactly how much pain they'd been in just hours earlier.
"You know," Zatanna said, bouncing slightly as she walked, her dark hair catching the morning light streaming through narrow windows, "I'm still processing the fact that I can apparently heal people with magic. Last week my biggest accomplishment was making flowers appear from thin air without setting anything on fire."
Bruce's ice-blue eyes swept the corridor with systematic attention, cataloging every shadow, every potential hiding spot, every architectural detail that could provide tactical advantage or disadvantage. His movements were precise, controlled—each step calculated for balance and readiness. "Useful skill. Medical knowledge could be the difference between mission success and catastrophic failure."
"Mission?" Hadrian raised an eyebrow with diplomatic curiosity, his natural charisma evident even in casual conversation. There was something about his presence that made people want to listen, to trust, to follow—the kind of inherent leadership quality that couldn't be taught or manufactured. "We're nine years old, Bruce. Yesterday we were students. Today we're apparently preparing for some kind of mystical warfare. The transition feels... abrupt."
"The world doesn't care about our age," Bruce replied with matter-of-fact intensity that belonged on someone three times older. His voice carried the flat certainty of someone who'd seen too much, understood too early that comfortable assumptions about safety and security were luxuries that could be stripped away without warning. "Threats don't wait for convenient timing or proper preparation. They come when they come."
Zatanna spun around to walk backward, her expressive eyes sparkling with mischief as she gestured dramatically at her brothers. "Listen to you two. 'Mission success,' 'mystical warfare,' 'threats don't wait.' We sound like the cast of some elaborate war movie. I half expect someone to start discussing extraction protocols and emergency rendezvous points."
"Extraction protocols aren't a bad idea," Bruce said seriously, completely missing her attempt at humor. "Every operation should have contingency plans for compromised positions and tactical withdrawal under hostile conditions."
Hadrian laughed, the sound warm and genuinely amused. "Bruce, I think Zatanna was joking. Not everything requires tactical analysis."
"Everything requires tactical analysis," Bruce corrected with the kind of grim determination that suggested he'd thought this through extensively. "Casual assumptions about safety are how people end up dead. Proper planning prevents poor performance."
"And proper planning prevents people from having any fun whatsoever," Zatanna added with theatrical exasperation, though her eyes held genuine affection for her intensely serious older brother. "You do realize that normal nine-year-olds worry about things like homework and whether they'll get invited to birthday parties, right?"
"We're not normal nine-year-olds," Bruce replied simply, as if this explained everything that needed explaining.
Dragon's study occupied a corner tower of the monastery, its circular walls lined floor to ceiling with texts that chronicled centuries of martial knowledge. Ancient scrolls in languages both living and dead competed for shelf space with leather-bound volumes whose covers had been worn smooth by countless hands seeking wisdom within their pages. The air carried the scent of aged parchment, ink, and something else—something that spoke of power carefully contained and knowledge jealously guarded through generations of masters and students.
Ben and Sandra flanked Dragon's massive wooden desk like a pair of young predators who'd learned to make violence look casual. Ben leaned against the wall with the kind of relaxed confidence that could explode into action without warning—his dark eyes alert despite his seemingly casual posture. Sandra sat with perfect stillness that somehow managed to be more unsettling than Ben's restless energy, every line of her compact frame suggesting coiled potential waiting for the right moment to unleash devastating force.
"Fresh meat's here," Ben announced with a grin that was equal parts welcoming and challenging, his voice carrying the easy humor of someone who'd earned his confidence through systematic application of pain and perseverance. "Hope you three got your beauty sleep, because Dragon doesn't believe in gentle wake-up calls."
"I wouldn't say we're fresh," Zatanna replied with theatrical dignity, settling into her chair with the kind of dramatic flair that suggested she was performing for an audience of thousands rather than a handful of students. "We're more like... experienced meat. Battle-tested meat. Meat with character development and narrative significance."
Sandra's lips twitched with what might have been amusement, though her expression remained analytically neutral. "Meat is meat," she said with clinical precision, her voice carrying the kind of calm certainty that made statements sound like mathematical proofs. "The only question is whether it's prepared properly or just thrown into the fire without seasoning."
Dragon himself sat behind the desk with the bearing of someone who'd earned his authority through decades of systematic violence and careful study. His massive frame seemed to fill the space around him with gravitational presence—as if he were a force of nature that other people had to navigate around rather than through. His scarred hands rested on an open tome that appeared to be written in Sanskrit, though the text seemed to shift and flow when observed directly—as if the knowledge it contained was too complex for static representation.
"Sit," he commanded without preamble, his voice cutting through their banter like a blade through silk. The simple word carried enough authority to make even Bruce straighten unconsciously. "We have much to discuss and limited time to waste on pleasantries or theatrical commentary."
The three Wayne children settled into their seats with varying degrees of comfort. Bruce sat with military precision, his posture suggesting readiness to leap into action at a moment's notice—every muscle coiled, every sense alert, his ice-blue eyes scanning the room for potential threats or tactical advantages. Hadrian maintained diplomatic grace despite obvious curiosity about the ancient texts surrounding them, his natural charisma evident in the way he made even sitting look like an act of statecraft. Zatanna fidgeted with barely contained energy, her expressive eyes darting around the room as if cataloging potential magical implements among the scholarly debris.
"Right then," Dragon said, opening a leather-bound journal and consulting notes written in his precise, economical script. "Last night's assessment provided valuable intelligence about your individual capabilities, limitations, and potential development paths. Today we establish training regimens that will transform that potential into practical ability."
Ben pushed off from the wall with fluid grace. "Translation: yesterday you got beat up for science. Today we figure out how to make you less beat-up-able in the future."
"Beat-up-able isn't a word," Sandra observed with analytical precision.
"It is now," Ben replied with unrepentant cheerfulness. "I'm contributing to the evolution of language through creative violence application."
Dragon's dark eyes fixed on Bruce with an analytical stare that seemed to look through flesh and bone to examine the underlying structure of will and determination. "Master Wayne—the elder—you demonstrated remarkable resilience and tactical thinking under extreme pressure. Your instincts are sound, but your technique is essentially nonexistent. You fight like someone who learned violence from necessity rather than instruction."
"I learned what I needed to learn," Bruce replied evenly, his ice-blue eyes meeting Dragon's without flinching. There was something in his posture that suggested he'd fight again right now if circumstances required it—pain, exhaustion, and overwhelming odds be damned.
"Indeed. Street fighting has its place," Dragon acknowledged with professional respect. "Raw aggression and stubborn refusal to surrender can win battles that perfect technique cannot. But what you needed then and what you need now are fundamentally different requirements."
He made a note in his journal with movements that were precise as clockwork. "Your training will focus on systematic technical development combined with strategic thinking. You have the warrior's heart—now we must give you the warrior's mind and body to match that level of commitment."
Bruce leaned forward with intense interest, his tactical mind already working through implications. "Specific methodologies?"
Dragon's expression grew more animated, the look of a master craftsman discussing his specialty. "Keysi Fighting Method as your primary system—developed for close-quarters combat in confined spaces. It emphasizes aggressive counter-attacks, environmental awareness, and the kind of relentless forward pressure that matches your natural inclinations perfectly."
"Keysi," Sandra said with analytical interest. "Unusual choice for someone his age. Most instructors start with more traditional foundations."
"Traditional foundations produce traditional fighters," Dragon replied with sharp satisfaction. "Master Wayne is not destined to be traditional anything. Keysi will be supplemented with Krav Maga for practical application and Wing Chun for sensitivity training."
"Combat-focused," Bruce said with grim approval. "Practical application over aesthetic considerations."
"Precisely. But that's not all." Dragon's voice took on a more serious tone that made everyone in the room pay closer attention. "You'll also study Ninjutsu—not the theatrical nonsense popularized by movies, but the genuine art of information gathering, infiltration, and psychological warfare."
Zatanna's eyebrows rose with theatrical surprise. "Ninjutsu? Are we training a fighter or preparing him for a career in extremely violent espionage?"
"What's the difference?" Ben asked with genuine curiosity. "Both involve hitting people and not getting hit back. Both require thinking on your feet and adapting to changing situations."
Dragon nodded approvingly. "Master Turner understands the connection. Your tactical mind is suited for intelligence work as much as direct confrontation, Master Wayne. You're going to need skills that most warriors never consider—stealth, investigation, psychological manipulation, technological integration. The ability to win battles before they begin."
Hadrian raised his hand with diplomatic courtesy, though his expression carried growing concern. "Not to interrupt, but that sounds remarkably like you're training him to become some sort of... vigilante operative. Are we discussing martial arts education or preparing him for a career in legally questionable violence application?"
Dragon's smile was sharp as winter steel, carrying satisfaction that suggested Hadrian had identified exactly the right question. "What's the difference, Master Wayne? Both require the same fundamental skills—information gathering, tactical planning, precise execution, and the ability to operate independently in hostile environments. I'm simply being more honest about the practical applications."
"Honest," Sandra repeated with analytical precision. "Most instructors focus on sport application or personal fitness. You're preparing us for actual combat scenarios."
"Sport application doesn't prepare you for opponents who want to kill you," Dragon replied matter-of-factly. "Personal fitness doesn't help when you're facing trained assassins with superior numbers and professional equipment. You five are destined for conflicts that will require every advantage you can develop."
He turned his attention to Hadrian, his expression shifting to something approaching fascination. "Your case is significantly more complex, Master Wayne the younger. Natural reflexes that border on precognitive ability, diplomatic instincts that suggest inherent leadership qualities, and magical potential that we've barely begun to explore properly."
Hadrian straightened under the scrutiny, his diplomatic training helping him maintain composure despite obvious discomfort with being the center of such intense attention. "I appreciate the confidence, but yesterday's performance suggests my abilities are more theoretical than practical."
"Yesterday you lasted longer against superior opponents than most adults would have managed," Ben pointed out with genuine respect. "That slippery thing you do—moving like water around attacks—that's not normal reflexes. That's something else entirely."
"Something potentially extraordinary," Dragon agreed, consulting his notes with renewed interest. "Your primary martial arts training will focus on Aikido—a system that emphasizes redirection of force rather than direct confrontation. Perfectly suited to your natural movement patterns and philosophical inclinations."
"Aikido," Zatanna said with obvious relief on her brother's behalf. "That sounds significantly more civilized than whatever systematic violence program you're designing for Bruce."
"Don't mistake philosophy for weakness," Dragon warned with the tone of someone who'd seen gentle arts applied with devastating effectiveness. "Master O-Sensei could kill a dozen men with Aikido techniques and make it look like they were participating in an elegant dance. But yes, your training will emphasize control, precision, and the ability to end conflicts without escalating them unnecessarily."
Hadrian looked visibly relieved by this news. "Conflict resolution rather than conflict escalation. That sounds much more compatible with my natural inclinations."
"You'll also study Capoeira for mobility and creative positioning," Dragon continued, "and Baguazhang for the circular footwork that will maximize your evasive capabilities. Combined, these systems will make you virtually impossible to pin down in conventional combat."
Ben whistled low with appreciation. "Sounds like you're training him to be some kind of warrior-diplomat. Fight when absolutely necessary, negotiate whenever possible, dance around problems until they solve themselves."
"Leadership training," Sandra added with growing understanding. "Preparing someone to command rather than simply follow orders or execute tactical plans."
Dragon nodded with obvious approval. "Exactly. But magical development will be equally important to your physical training, Master Wayne. The Dragon's Claw has accepted you, but that acceptance is merely the beginning of your mystical education."
Hadrian's hand moved unconsciously to the jade amulet resting against his chest, his expression growing thoughtful. "The amulet feels... aware. Like it's listening to our conversation and forming opinions about what it hears."
"Because it is," Dragon replied with matter-of-fact acceptance of concepts that would have sounded insane in most contexts. "Mystical artifacts of that age and power develop consciousness over time. The Dragon's Claw has been worn by warriors, scholars, kings, and heroes for over a millennium. It remembers all of them."
"Remembers them how?" Zatanna asked with genuine curiosity that went beyond her usual theatrical interest. "Like, their techniques and abilities, or their personalities and memories?"
"Both," Dragon said simply. "Which is why you'll study Taoist meditation techniques, energy manipulation exercises, and theoretical magic alongside your martial development. The artifact will teach you things that books cannot contain, but only if you're prepared to understand what it's trying to communicate."
"Theoretical magic?" Zatanna interjected with obvious interest, though her expression suggested she wasn't entirely sure whether this sounded educational or boring. "That sounds significantly less fun than practical magic, but probably considerably safer than my usual approach."
"Understanding the principles behind mystical forces is essential for safe application," Dragon explained patiently, with the tone of someone who'd seen too many students learn this lesson the hard way. "Raw talent without theoretical foundation is how students accidentally summon demons, trigger natural disasters, or worse. Theory keeps you alive when instinct fails and creativity leads you into dangerous territory."
He shifted his attention to Zatanna, his expression growing more animated as he contemplated the challenges her training would present. "Miss Zatara, your case presents unique opportunities and equally unique challenges. Stage magic background, natural mystical ability, creative thinking that borders on chaos theory. Your magical education will be split between practical development and combat application."
Zatanna bounced in her chair with excitement, her expressive eyes sparkling with mischief and anticipation. "Combat magic? That sounds considerably more educational than pulling rabbits from hats or making flowers bloom on command. Though I should mention that my flowers are perfectly lovely and nobody has complained about them yet."
"Combat application of magical abilities requires significantly different skills than theatrical performance," Sandra observed with analytical interest. "Stage magic is about entertainment and controlled revelation. Combat magic would need to be about tactical advantage and immediate practical results."
"Exactly right, Miss Wu-San," Dragon said with approval. "Your martial arts training will focus on systems that emphasize mobility and creativity over brute force, Miss Zatara. Capoeira for fluid movement and acrobatic positioning, Aikido for redirecting attacks instead of absorbing them directly."
"Those sound wonderfully non-violent," Zatanna said with theatrical relief. "I was worried you might want me to learn something that involved systematically hitting people until they stopped moving."
"Oh, you'll learn that too," Dragon replied with dry humor that didn't quite mask more serious intentions. "Most importantly, you'll study Kali for weapons integration and practical application."
The silence that followed was profound and complete.
"Weapons?" Hadrian asked with diplomatic concern, his protective instincts toward his sister evident in his suddenly tense posture. "Isn't she a bit young for systematic weapons training? She's barely mastered stage magic without setting things on fire accidentally."
"Hey!" Zatanna protested with theatrical indignation. "I have excellent fire control these days. That incident with the curtains was months ago, and it was barely even singed, and everyone agreed it looked better afterward anyway."
"She's going to be a combat magician," Dragon replied matter-of-factly, as if this explained everything that needed explaining. "Magic requires focus, concentration, and precise timing to execute effectively. In combat situations, opponents will attempt to disrupt all three through systematic application of violence and intimidation."
Ben nodded with professional understanding. "Mage-killers go after concentration first. Hard to cast spells when someone's trying to punch you in the face repeatedly."
"Exactly," Dragon confirmed. "She needs to be able to fight effectively even when magical options are compromised, temporarily unavailable, or tactically inappropriate for the situation."
Sandra leaned forward with intense interest. "Backup systems. Magic fails, weapons engage. Secondary skills support primary abilities. Sound tactical thinking for someone whose main strength could be neutralized by the right countermeasures."
"But magical development will be your primary focus," Dragon assured Zatanna, his expression growing more animated as he contemplated the possibilities her training represented. "Combat application, battlefield control, protective techniques, and what we might call 'creative problem-solving under extreme pressure.' Your natural chaos-theory approach to magic could be remarkably effective if properly channeled and systematically developed."
Zatanna's eyes sparkled with mischief and barely contained excitement. "Define 'properly channeled,' because I have a feeling your definition and my definition might be in completely different universes."
"Controlled chaos rather than random chaos," Dragon replied with what might have been amusement, though his expression suggested he was entirely serious about the distinction. "Unpredictable enough to confuse opponents and create tactical advantages they can't prepare for, systematic enough to achieve specific tactical objectives rather than just creating impressive mayhem."
"Think jazz improvisation rather than complete cacophony," Ben added with a grin. "Structure within flexibility, creativity within purpose."
"Jazz magic," Zatanna said thoughtfully, testing the concept. "I like that. It sounds artistic and dangerous and just a little bit rebellious."
Bruce leaned forward with analytical interest, his tactical mind already working through the implications of what Dragon was describing. "These training programs sound comprehensive but individual. What about team coordination? Integration of our different specialties into cohesive tactical approaches?"
Dragon's expression shifted to something approaching anticipation, the look of someone who'd been waiting for exactly this question. "Excellent tactical thinking, Master Wayne. Individual development is merely the foundation upon which everything else will be built. True effectiveness will come from learning to function as an integrated unit—each member's strengths compensating for others' weaknesses, each specialty supporting and amplifying the others' effectiveness."
He stood with fluid grace despite his massive frame, moving to a wall chart that diagrammed various martial arts techniques and their practical applications in different combat scenarios. "Bruce will serve as tactical coordinator and primary combatant—the one who engages directly with hostile forces and makes real-time strategic decisions under pressure."
"Point man," Ben translated with professional understanding. "First into danger, last to retreat, makes the hard calls when everything goes sideways."
"Hadrian will function as team leader and magical support," Dragon continued, "using both diplomatic skills and mystical abilities to control engagement parameters and maintain strategic oversight."
"Command and control," Sandra added with analytical appreciation. "Coordinates team actions while providing supernatural support for tactical objectives."
"Zatanna will provide battlefield control and creative problem-solving," Dragon concluded, "using magic and misdirection to create tactical advantages and adapt to rapidly changing circumstances."
Ben studied the chart with growing understanding, his street-smart intellect immediately grasping the tactical implications. "Offense, leadership, and support. Classic team structure, but adapted for very non-standard capabilities and supernatural elements."
"But what happens when magic fails or diplomacy breaks down?" Sandra asked with analytical precision, her mind already working through potential failure scenarios. "What happens when circumstances force direct confrontation despite everyone's preferred methods and tactical approaches?"
Dragon's smile was sharp with professional pride and hard-won knowledge. "That's where individual martial arts training becomes absolutely essential. Each of you needs to be genuinely dangerous in your own right, capable of functioning independently when team coordination becomes impossible or tactically inappropriate."
He gestured to encompass all five children, his expression growing more intense. "But together... together you could handle threats that would overwhelm conventional opposition entirely. Supernatural threats, technological superiority, overwhelming numbers—the kind of challenges that require unprecedented solutions."
Zatanna raised her hand with theatrical timing and barely contained excitement. "Question about this 'controlled chaos' magic training—will there be explosions? Because I feel like proper magical education should include at least some explosions. For scientific purposes and educational value, obviously."
"Undoubtedly," Dragon replied with dry humor that didn't quite mask his genuine amusement at her enthusiasm. "Though we'll try to keep them small, controlled, and preferably not directed at the monastery's structural integrity or historical artifacts."
"Speaking of which," Hadrian interjected with diplomatic concern and obvious worry about his sister's definition of reasonable risk, "are there safety protocols for magical training? Backup plans in case experiments go spectacularly wrong? Because I have a strong feeling that Zatanna's definition of 'controlled' might be somewhat more flexible than conventional safety standards would recommend."
"Hey!" Zatanna protested with theatrical indignation, though her grin suggested she wasn't entirely offended by the implication. "My chaos is perfectly controlled. It's just... creatively expressed within carefully calculated parameters of acceptable risk."
"Carefully calculated," Bruce repeated with flat skepticism. "Your stage magic yesterday involved cards appearing from thin air and flowers that dissolved into glitter. Today you're discussing explosions for educational purposes. The escalation seems concerning."
"That's not escalation," Zatanna replied with wounded dignity. "That's natural progression within established magical development frameworks. Completely different concepts."
Sandra's lips twitched with what might have been amusement. "Established by whom?"
"By me," Zatanna declared with theatrical authority. "I'm establishing them right now. Precedent through practical application and creative interpretation."
Dragon ignored their byplay with the practiced ease of someone who'd spent decades managing students with strong personalities and conflicting approaches to personal safety. "Training schedule and time allocation," he announced, consulting his journal again. "Six days per week of intensive training and education."
"Six days?" Hadrian calculated quickly, his diplomatic mind already working through the logistics. "That's... approximately forty hours per week of intensive education and physical conditioning. When do we sleep? Eat? Maintain basic human functions and psychological well-being?"
"Between training sessions," Dragon replied without a trace of sympathy, his tone suggesting this was a perfectly reasonable arrangement. "This isn't a casual hobby or recreational activity, Master Wayne. You're preparing for a war that hasn't started yet, against opponents whose capabilities we can only guess at and whose intentions are definitely hostile."
Ben nodded with grim understanding. "Casual preparation produces casual results, and casual results get people killed in situations where killing is the primary objective."
"Mornings will focus on individual martial arts development," Dragon continued with systematic precision. "Three hours of intensive technique refinement, physical conditioning, and skill application. Afternoons will alternate between magical instruction and team coordination exercises."
"And evenings?" Sandra asked with analytical interest.
"Theoretical studies," Dragon replied. "Martial arts philosophy, magical theory, tactical planning, intelligence analysis, and what we might call 'applied psychology for conflict resolution.'"
Zatanna stared at him with theatrical horror. "That sounds like... homework. Lots and lots of homework. With potentially deadly practical applications."
"Knowledge without practical application is useless," Dragon said matter-of-factly. "Practical application without theoretical understanding is dangerous. You need both to survive what's coming."
Sandra leaned forward with intense curiosity, her analytical mind immediately focusing on the most important strategic question. "What kind of opponents are we preparing to face? Who exactly are we going to be fighting, and why?"
Dragon was quiet for a long moment, his scarred features growing troubled in ways that suggested knowledge he genuinely wished he didn't possess. When he spoke, his voice carried weight that made all five children straighten unconsciously.
"The world is changing, Miss Wu-San. Ancient powers are stirring after centuries of dormancy, old compacts and treaties are breaking down, forces that have been contained or controlled for generations are beginning to move freely again."
His dark eyes swept across all five children, carrying implications that stretched far beyond anything they'd considered before. "The League of Assassins is becoming more active and aggressive. Mystical cults are gaining power and influence in ways that threaten global stability. Criminal organizations with resources that rival small nations are forming alliances with supernatural entities."
"Supernatural entities," Bruce repeated with flat acceptance, as if he were discussing weather patterns or traffic conditions. "Define 'supernatural' in this context."
"Demons," Dragon replied simply. "Ancient spirits, mystical creatures that exist between dimensions, beings of pure magical energy that view human civilization as either useful tools or interesting obstacles to be removed."
The study fell silent except for the soft whisper of wind through ancient stones and the distant sound of monks going about their daily routines in blissful ignorance of the conversation taking place in their midst.
"Right then," Zatanna said faintly, her theatrical demeanor cracking slightly around the edges. "That's... significantly more serious than I was expecting when I woke up this morning. I was thinking maybe advanced card tricks and possibly learning to make bigger flowers bloom. Not preparing for supernatural warfare against ancient demonic entities."
"Demons are actually not the worst possibility," Ben said with matter-of-fact acceptance that suggested he'd already processed these implications. "Demons follow rules, even if we don't understand them. They have goals, motivations, logical approaches to problem-solving. You can predict them, plan for them, develop countermeasures."
"Humans with supernatural backing," Sandra added with analytical precision, "are significantly more dangerous because they combine unpredictable human creativity with powers that operate outside normal physical limitations."
Dragon nodded approvingly. "Exactly right, both of you. You five represent something new—a combination of skills, abilities, and potential that could tip the balance when these forces finally reveal themselves openly."
His voice grew more intense, carrying implications that none of them were quite ready to fully comprehend. "But potential means absolutely nothing without preparation, and preparation requires sacrifice on levels you haven't begun to consider."
"What kind of sacrifice?" Bruce asked with matter-of-fact acceptance that suggested he'd already decided the cost was acceptable, whatever it might turn out to be.
Dragon's expression grew genuinely sympathetic for the first time since they'd met him, showing depths of understanding that spoke of personal experience with difficult choices and their long-term consequences.
"Your childhoods," he replied with brutal honesty that cut through any comfortable illusions they might have been maintaining. "Your innocence. Your comfortable assumption that the world operates according to rational, predictable rules that adults have established for your protection."
He paused, studying their faces with the careful attention of someone who understood that this moment would define the rest of their lives.
"By the time your training is complete, you'll know things that most people live their entire lives without suspecting. You'll be capable of things that most people would consider impossible or morally questionable. You'll carry responsibilities that most adults couldn't handle."
Zatanna's theatrical demeanor had faded entirely, replaced by something more serious and vulnerable than anyone had seen from her before. "And if we decide we don't want that knowledge? Don't want those capabilities or responsibilities?"
Dragon's expression softened further, showing genuine care beneath his intimidating exterior. "Then you leave, Miss Zatara. Today, tomorrow, whenever you choose. No judgment, no pressure, no consequences beyond returning to normal childhood development."
His voice grew more serious, carrying weight that made them all pay closer attention.
"But understand—the world doesn't care whether you're ready or not. The forces moving in the darkness won't hesitate to destroy you simply because you chose ignorance over preparation. They won't respect your innocence or your desire to remain uninvolved."
The study fell silent except for the soft whisper of wind through ancient stones. Each of the children was processing implications that stretched far beyond martial arts training or magical education. They were being offered transformation—but transformation that came with responsibilities and dangers they couldn't fully comprehend yet.
Bruce broke the silence first, his voice carrying the flat certainty that would define the rest of his life and shape him into something unprecedented. "When do we start?"
Dragon's smile returned, sharp with approval and something that might have been relief. "We already have, Master Wayne. Yesterday's assessment was your first lesson in understanding your limitations and potential. Today's discussion was your second lesson in understanding the scope of what you're committing to."
He closed his journal with decisive finality that seemed to seal their fates. "Tomorrow morning at dawn, we begin systematic development of everything you'll need to survive what's coming."
"Ben and Sandra will serve as training partners and senior students," he continued with professional satisfaction. "They'll help guide your development and provide the kind of realistic opposition that theory alone cannot supply."
"Translation," Ben said with a grin that was equal parts friendly and threatening, "we're going to beat you up on a regular basis, but in an educational way that will eventually make you better at not getting beaten up."
"Educational violence," Zatanna said thoughtfully. "I suppose there are worse ways to spend our formative years."
"Questions?" Dragon asked, his tone suggesting this was their last opportunity for clarification before committing fully to the path he'd outlined.
Hadrian raised his hand with diplomatic courtesy, though his expression carried weight that suggested this question had been building throughout their entire conversation. "Just one. This war you mentioned—the ancient powers stirring, the forces moving in darkness—how long do we have before it becomes unavoidable?"
Dragon considered the question with the careful attention of someone who understood that accurate intelligence could mean the difference between victory and complete catastrophe. His scarred features grew more troubled as he contemplated timelines and probabilities.
"Based on current indicators and intelligence from sources I'd prefer not to identify?" He paused, consulting internal calculations that involved factors none of them could guess at. "Two to three years before major conflicts become overt and impossible to ignore. Five to seven years before the situation reaches crisis levels that threaten global stability and civilian populations."
"So we have time to prepare properly," Sandra concluded with analytical relief. "Sufficient time to develop skills and coordinate effectively before facing genuine threats."
"If we use that time wisely and don't waste it on unnecessary hesitation or comfortable denial," Dragon agreed with grim satisfaction. "Which is why training begins tomorrow at dawn, and continues every day after that until you're ready for whatever darkness is coming."
Ben pushed off from the wall with fluid grace, his expression growing more serious despite his natural cheerfulness. "Fair warning—it's going to hurt. A lot. Regularly. Dragon doesn't believe in gentle learning curves or gradual skill development."
"Pain is educational," Sandra added with clinical precision. "Discomfort indicates the boundaries between current capability and required improvement. Embrace it as information rather than suffering."
"Embrace pain as information," Zatanna repeated thoughtfully. "That's either very wise philosophy or early warning signs of concerning psychological development."
As they filed out of the study, each lost in contemplation of the path they'd just committed to, Dragon's voice followed them with quiet intensity that made them all pause in the doorway.
"Remember this moment, all of you. This is the last time you'll be just children with potential and comfortable assumptions about the world's basic safety."
His dark eyes held weight that seemed to encompass centuries of hard-won knowledge and difficult choices.
"Tomorrow, you become something more—and something more dangerous. Make sure you're ready for what that transformation will cost you, and what it will make you capable of."
The ancient stones of the monastery seemed to echo with possibilities both terrifying and magnificent, as if the very walls understood that something unprecedented was beginning within their protective embrace.
The real training was about to begin.
---
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