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Julius's POV
I spent the days before the main event focusing on the fundantals—drilling forms, sprinting, and sparring. I did it all wearing a weight vest with about sixty kilograms strapped to . Even with Cursed Energy Reinforcent, exercising with twice my bodyweight was absolute hell.
But I couldn't argue with the gains.
I puked twice during those hellish sessions, but every drop of sweat and bile was in service of a greater goal—taking down Black Mask.
Beating Zsasz was just the final test.
Sally thought I was going too far, but I felt the opposite.
When I left here, Ivy's protection would be gone, and the word on the grapevine was that Black Mask had quintupled my bounty. That kind of money attracted serious threats. I was starting to worry that even partnering with Penguin might not be enough.
He had no real incentive to protect . Not really.
And I wasn't sure Artemis would tolerate my thods.
Ideally, I didn't want bounty hunters coming back for a second or third try. It'd be a miracle if I made it through the week without ending up dead or behind bars.
You could always leave.
Get out of the city, grow stronger under the radar, and co back to finish Black Mask.
But I'd been down that road before. Nothing was stopping him from raising the bounty again—or worse, going after the girls. The ti to strike was now… I just wasn't sure I had the juice for it.
I exhaled as I lowered the eighty-pound dumbbells I'd been curling back in their rack.
Ivy's crew was still an option… So was pushing Curtain as far as it could go. If I could compress the barrier small enough, I might be able to sneak right up on Black Mask and assassinate him. The escape would be dicey… but doable.
But all that depended on Curtain growing the way I envisioned it.
I glanced up at the gym's wall clock.
It was ti.
I took one last look at my status before slipping on my shirt:
Class: Sorcerer – Level 6 (3rd Grade)
Techniques: Inverse Lv 2
Health: 420/420
Cursed Energy: 400/400
Stamina: 430/430
Stats
STR: 32 AGI: 39
PER: 48 VIT: 42
END: 43 CP: 40
Skills
Cursed Inventory Lv 4
Hand-to-Hand Combat Lv 3
Cursed Energy Manipulation Lv 3
Stealth Lv 2
Curtain Lv 1
Acrobatics Lv 2
ta Ability: Enhanced Regeneration
The numbers grounded , reminding just how far I'd co since Level One. It was more than enough to handle a deranged serial killer who was nice to that one ti.
Still, sweat poured down my back as I made my way to the Arena.
Sally was waiting, leaning casually against the wall.
"We should talk after your fight," she said with a teasing smirk.
"Sure thing," I muttered, not sure what to make of it.
Was this business, or… sothing else?
I shook the thought from my mind as the lights and noise of the arena washed over . Harley's voice echoed in the background.
"I gotta tell ya, I haven't been this excited to watch a throwdown since my Puddin' took on Batsy! On the left, we've got Victor Zsasz—the infamous serial killer and rcenary. No target is off the table. Won. Children. Hell, he probably does the n as a bonus!" she cackled.
Zsasz stood in an easy stance, one hand idly twirling a butterfly knife. He wore his usual dress shirt, pants, and Oxfords. He'd even sprung for a waistcoat this ti. Must've thought today was worth celebrating.
I took slow, deep breaths, trying to steady my heart.
"His opponent—Mr. Negative! The breakout star of this tournant! Don't let his size fool ya—he hits like a truck, is tougher than steel, and got ice in his veins. He might just be supervillain material."
Sand crunched under my feet as I stepped into the center of the arena, Zsasz mirroring my movents. His grin stretched wider with every step until we stopped, ten feet apart.
"My, my, you've grown a lot, haven't you, Mister Negative," he chuckled darkly. "Just like I thought you would."
"Why single out?" I asked.
"Oh, co on, you know why." He delicately lifted his foot from the sand and circled like a predator. My muscles tensed. "You have it—that edge. The one that separates true killers from punks with delusions of grandeur. It's what led you here."
He gestured to the roaring crowd like their chaos proved his point.
"Sure, I had my doubts, but you cleared them up—and in spectacular fashion. Personally, I'd have gone with the knife, but with that many people? I suppose the gun was more pragmatic."
I stiffened.
Of course, he knew about the killings.
"This so kind of twisted test? Because I don't rember signing up to be your sidekick."
Zsasz laughed.
"Never said I was looking for one. And besides—you saw—I don't play well with others." He stopped in front of , knife loose in his grip. "No, all I really want is the best of you."
"What?" I frowned.
"The last real fight you struggled in was Han, and you've grown leaps since then. Even during that fight, I could tell you were holding back. Tucking away so ace up your sleeve." He leaned in, eyes narrowing. I felt oddly exposed, like he saw right through .
"Well, it's ti to play that card," he said, raising his knife. "I want all of you. A finale worthy of my blade. Oh, don't look at like that. You'll co out stronger—if you survive."
His grin stretched wide and toothy.
"You're insane," I whispered.
"What gave away?" he cackled.
A chill ran down my spine.
I let his words settle. I hated to admit it, but he was right—at least partly.
I was a killer now. A reluctant one, but a killer all the sa. And most of the recent fights had felt more like distractions than challenges.
Dealing with Ghost had been...brutal. Cheshire dipped before the fight even got going. I might've lost that one eventually, but I hadn't been fighting to win—it was to learn.
With Zsasz, that wasn't a problem.
He was an obstacle to overco, his one-ti favor notwithstanding.
I exhaled slowly and dropped into a stance, Curse Energy flooding my limbs. I focused it into my legs and right fist, leaving the rest of my body mostly unguarded. That was the tradeoff—maximum output ant selective reinforcent.
"You wanted my best. I'm about to give it to you."
His eyes lit up with anticipation—and then shock—as the sand exploded beneath my feet.
The world blurred. My fist connected with his jaw.
Inverse wrapped around just before impact.
The crack was sharp and loud. Zsasz flew back, flipping through the air like a ragdoll. He crashed into the sand hard, a plu of dust bursting up around him.
The crowd gasped, stunned into silence.
Then, Harley's voice cut through the tension.
"Whaaat the hell was THAT?! Did he freakin' teleport? Run that back on the big screen! What d'you know—Zsasz was right. Mistah Negative was holding out on us!"
I rolled my shoulders and walked toward Zsasz's body. That punch could've dropped an elephant.
I'd be shocked if he weren't dead.
I winced, glancing at my cursed energy reserves. That cost nearly 50 CE. Maybe I overdid it a little.
It was an anticlimactic end to a week of buildup, but it was necessary. I'd been losing focus. Zsasz's little speech, annoying as it was, had been a wake-up call.
Then I caught movent—a twitch—and the laughter began.
Low. Guttural. Rising into a manic cackle.
It reminded of the Joker. My pulse quickened.
"And the surprises keep on comin'—Zsasz is still in the fight!"
He dragged himself up from the sand, shirt torn and soaked in blood, his face split into a shattered grin. He held up an empty needle, the bottom still glowing with a thick green liquid.
Venom.
And not the street-level crap either. This was the pure stuff.
Oh hell.
His muscles swelled grotesquely, filling out his clothes to bursting. Veins bulged like cables, and his pupils shrank to pinpricks. Foam coated his lips, but his voice—gravelly and warped—carried clear.
"You didn't think it'd be that easy, did you?"
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