"This isn't justice," Batman growled, his voice cutting through the silence. "With them gone, you've only added to the problem. You're no better than they are."
Avery chuckled softly, the sound echoing in the stillness. "Oh, please. Without them lurking in the shadows, scheming and sabotaging, your job just got a lot easier. Sometimes, the only way to deal with a tumor is to cut it out."
"And in doing so," Batman barked, his temper finally snapping, "you've become the problem."
Closing the distance between them, he seized Avery's collar, his gloved hand trembling with restrained fury.
Avery met Batman's piercing steel-blue gaze without flinching. After a moment of silence, he arched an eyebrow, clicking his tongue lightly before speaking. "I don't see it that way. Unlike them, I have zero interest in ruling this city."
Batman's eyes narrowed, his tone frigid as he hissed, "So mass murder is your hobby?"
Avery remained unperturbed. His rebuttal was calm, almost conversational. "That's hardly fair. Think of it this way: if mosquitoes weren't buzzing in my ear, I wouldn't bother swatting them. There are plenty of mosquitoes outside my room, but I'm not chasing them all down. It's the persistent ones that die."
Batman couldn't help but let out a sharp, incredulous laugh, his anger bubbling over at Avery's twisted logic.
"Avery!"
His voice carried all the restrained fury he'd held back earlier, and he deliberately addressed the man before him by a name that belonged to his trusted butler.
The moment Avery heard his name, he tilted his head, surprise flickering briefly across his face. However, it wasn't shock—it was more akin to an expectation that has been fulfilled. It was as if he had hoped Batman would uncover his true identity, and if he hadn't, Avery might have been truly disappointed.
Of course, the latter possibility never crossed his mind. After all, this was Batman.
He's every bit as intelligent and exceptional as I imagined, Avery thought to himself, a sense of pride and satisfaction blooming in his chest. Then, meeting Batman's intense gaze, he asked with a tone laced with genuine curiosity, "How did you figure it out? Or rather, what mistake gave me away?"
Batman remained silent.
In truth, he didn't have concrete evidence to back up his claim. The shared use of magic was no proof, nor was the fact that the Talons had targeted both of them. What led him to speak the name "Avery" at that moment was pure instinct.
And sometimes, for Batman, a gut feeling was all he needed. He wasn't bound by the rules of police investigations or courtroom standards. He had felt the faint threads of possibility and had seized upon them, calling out the name on little more than a hunch.
"Not willing to say, are you?" Avery sighed, a note of mock regret in his voice. "Well, I suppose I won't have the chance to hear it now."
Batman's eyes narrowed. Something in Avery's words rang ominously. Before he could demand clarification, the moment was interrupted by the sudden arrival of another group.
The newcomers stormed in, their leader fixing Avery with a glare full of fury and recognition. "I can't believe it… So the mysterious wizard who's been attacking us all this time was you! And you're still alive!"
At the front of the group was a man Batman quickly recognized as the leader from earlier covert gatherings. Behind him stood several others, their hostile intentions written plainly on their faces.
Avery casually shoved Batman's hand from his collar, and though Batman momentarily resisted, the situation's urgency caused him to let go and shift his focus to the new adversaries. Avery, for his part, easily freed himself, a faint smirk playing on his lips.
The wizard that was draped in a white robe trimmed with gold, greeted the leader with a maddeningly cheerful demeanor. "Grigori, darling, it's been ages. I trust you've been well? You've… let yourself go, haven't you?"
The insult, though veiled in politeness, was sharp. For most, aging often came with a loss of physical fitness. But for powerful wizard like Grigori, it was easy to maintain a youthful, prime appearance—unless they had sustained severe physical injuries.
Grigori's face twisted for a moment, his anger barely contained. He could still feel the lingering pain of the hidden injuries he had yet to fully recover from.
This bastard, Grigori thought bitterly. He always knew how to cut deep with his words and ensure he was remembered for it.
"Avery…" he spat the name through gritted teeth, practically choking on the venom in his voice.
Avery Konstantin Golitsyn Von Makarov was, without a doubt, someone who excelled at making enemies.
This was perhaps rooted in his personality, though no one truly understood how he became this way. He had once been regarded as a mild-mannered and polite young man, but seemingly overnight, he transformed into a cold-blooded and erratic person.
When indifferent, he wouldn't spare anyone so much as a glance. When in a playful mood, he could push people to the brink of collapse. The word "capricious" seemed invented for him, making many people afraid to even approach him due to his unpredictable nature.
Fortunately, most of the time, as long as no one provoked him, he remained relatively stable.
People could only speculate about the reasons behind his transformation. It wasn't until he killed his own mentor with his own hands that the truth about Avery's nature was exposed.
His overwhelming power, combined with his inscrutable personality, made him someone most preferred to be avoided. Few people dared to provoke the leader of all wizards on the continent, especially those who still valued their peace and quiet life.
At first, Grigori was no exception. He knew all too well how formidable Avery was and saw no reason to invite trouble. After all, Grigori and his group had a clear goal: to exploit this world's resources and strengthen themselves. Staying under the radar was already challenging enough without antagonizing a wild card like Avery.