At that moment, those dark, vacant eyes seemed like bottomless whirlpools, and the smirk on the face was a taunt—a mockery of the Talons' confidence, as if saying, "Did you really think it would be this simple? No. That's impossible."
Anyone capable of stirring up chaos in Gotham for so long and avoiding a grisly end couldn't possibly be defeated so easily. This scene now made it clear to them that Batman wielded methods that reached into unknown realms.
When faced with imminent danger, anything alive instinctively reacts to protect itself, and evidently, even highly trained assassins were no exception.
Witnessing such an eerie, horrifying sight, the Talon instinctively shuddered, nearly tossing the object in his hands away.
Yet, no heavy thud hit the ground. Instead, they heard only a familiar voice—a voice that made every heart skip a beat.
"How could you handle someone's head so carelessly?"
Reflected in the round lenses of his goggles was an unimaginable sight: a headless figure dressed in a black trench coat, slender and upright, cradling the head of a human male. The head was strikingly handsome, smiling strangely, with an inquisitive tone that made it sound as though this were the most ordinary matter.
And now, this "person" stood right behind him.
The Talon caught this in the reflection of his companion's goggles. His nerves shot through with tension, a chill spreading down his spine. Immediately, he twisted his wrist to draw his long blade from behind and slashed backward.
But in the next second, his blade sliced through nothing but air—the enemy who'd been there just a moment before had disappeared.
Where had he gone?!
With the terrifying possibility that this figure could reappear behind them at any moment in any form, every assassin went on high alert. In mere seconds, weapons they'd previously sheathed were once again in hand, and they stood back-to-back, their eyes scanning the surroundings warily, bracing themselves for a sudden attack.
"This won't work. Something's very wrong here. Our knowledge of the enemy is severely flawed, and I doubt our other plan will succeed. We should return and report this immediately."
After a long, agonizing wait, the lead Talon spoke up.
But what answered him was not his companions, only a drawn-out silence—a silence so strange it set him on edge. He could wait no longer and quickly turned around to check on them. The moment he turned around, every hair on his body stood on end, his heart nearly stopping.
Behind him… the one he'd been leaning against, guarding back-to-back, was not his teammate. It was… a wall. A wall filled with countless faces!
In the Court of Owls, "Talon" was the formal title given to their assassins. When not in use, they were sealed away in coffins designed with special freezing technology, preserving them until summoned for a mission.
Because of this, countless years could pass in reality, yet for the Talons, it felt like only moments had passed since previous events. And in that moment, the Talon immediately recognized that every face on that wall belonged to someone he had personally killed.
Among them was an ancestor of Bruce Wayne—Alan Wayne!
Under his terrified gaze, several of the faces on the wall opened their eyes simultaneously, curling their lips into identical, eerie smiles.
The root of human fear lies in the awareness of danger; when people sense a threat, an instinctive fear response arises as a form of self-preservation. This principle applies to anyone, even a killer accustomed to instilling fear—as long as he remains a normal human being, he is not exempt.
In that instant, the scalp of Talon, whose real name was William Cobb, felt as if it were about to explode.
"Watch your back!"
As Batman prepared to ambush the oncoming enemies from around the corner, Alfred's hurried warning broke through, barely audible over a faint noise behind him.
Realizing someone was attempting a sneak attack from behind, Batman immediately dodged the fierce blow aimed at his head with a backflip. Landing on his hands, he used his legs to twist the attacker's neck, slamming him down to the ground.
As he quickly stood back up, Batman glanced at his would-be assailant. To his surprise, it was the same assassin he had knocked out earlier. Despite the force he'd used, the assailant had regained consciousness in less than a minute!
"It was actually even faster," Alfred informed him over the communicator. "He freed himself from the chains as you left to ambush the next target. I'm beginning to wonder if he was even fully unconscious."
"After that, he opened the door and attacked you, but he moved so quickly that I had no time to warn you."
Batman listened intently, though he had no time to dwell on the details. As he took down the attacker behind him, the assassin around the corner noticed the scuffle and promptly rounded the corner, engaging Batman. Simultaneously, the downed assassin rolled to his feet and re-entered the fight.
As Batman grappled with the two attackers, he flung several batarangs. The sharp projectiles traced smooth arcs through the air; a few sank deeply into the walls, while others, thanks to their reinforced materials, sliced through the assassins' specialized suits, embedding directly into various points on their bodies.
The batarangs were laced with a highly concentrated tranquilizer, intended to capture these two assailants for interrogation. Batman believed that they might be linked to whoever was behind Harvey's disfigurement.
But in the next moment, he sensed something was wrong: both attackers simply yanked out the batarangs by hand and, unaffected, resumed their charge. What shocked him wasn't their immunity—trained operatives often built resistance to sedatives and truth serums. Instead, what alarmed him was the way their wounds began to heal at an astonishingly rapid rate, sealing up visibly beneath their torn suits, as if they'd never been injured at all.
This was a big problem.
Batman realized that whoever was behind them held more power than he'd anticipated. This shadowy force either commanded people with such abilities or possessed technology that could grant them.
At that moment, several other Talons infiltrating the manor detected the scuffle and quickly closed in on the scene.
Meanwhile, one Talon diverged from the group and slipped into a quiet room in a corner of the mansion.
Through his goggles, he scanned the room, sticking close to the wall as he tapped it, listening intently.
Thud, thud.
Empty.