The air in the Arena was heavy.

  Not with smoke.

  Not with heat.

  But with intent.

  Killing intent.

  Batman stood alone in the center.

  No audience. No teachers.

  Just him—and the shadow looming from the opposite side.

  So this is Drake Valtor.

  The Monster of Division A

  Drake was tall.

  Broad-shouldered.

  Every step he took cracked the ground beneath him.

  His aura?

  Suffocating.

  “You’re bold. I’ll give you that,” Drake said, his voice deep and calm.

  “But boldness without strength? That’s just suicide.”

  Batman didn’t reply.

  He didn’t need to.

  The look in his eyes said enough.

  ---

  Start

  No countdown.

  No signal.

  Drake charged.

  Fast.

  Too fast for someone that big.

  Batman moved to parry—

  But the punch never came.

  It was a feint.

  Drake’s real strike came from the side.

  Batman dodged, barely.

  But the force of the wind from the swing still threw him across the arena.

  He’s not just strong... he’s tactical.

  Batman nded on his feet, skidding back.

  “You’re faster than I thought,” Drake said.

  “But still not fast enough.”

  Martial Spirit: Bck Vortex Tiger

  Drake's back fred with dark red light.

  And then it appeared—

  A monstrous tiger, swirling with bck wind, its cws glinting like bdes.

  Its eyes were locked on Batman.

  “Let me show you why they call me the Storm Breaker.”

  The tiger roared—and Drake vanished.

  Batman barely had time to react.

  Drake was on him, fists moving like a blur.

  Each punch was like a hammer.

  Each dodge was a miracle.

  But Batman wasn’t losing.

  He was learning.

  Left shoulder dips when he fakes. Twist in the ankle before the spin. He overcommits with the right.

  The next punch came.

  Batman didn’t dodge.

  He caught it.

  And threw Drake over his shoulder—

  Smming him into the ground.

  “You think you’re the only monster here?” Batman growled.

  ---

  The Dark Surge

  Batman’s own aura ignited.

  It wasn’t fshy.

  It wasn’t loud.

  But it was cold.

  And dense.

  Like the silence before a massacre.

  Drake stood up, blood on his lips.

  “Heh. Now we’re talking.”

  They cshed again.

  Fists. Elbows. Knees. Headbutts.

  No fancy techniques.

  Just raw combat.

  Each hit shook the arena.

  Batman’s knuckles were bleeding.

  Drake’s ribs were cracked.

  This guy... he's not holding back anymore.

  Neither could he.

  ---

  Batman ducked.

  Countered.

  His fist drove straight into Drake’s gut.

  And with his other hand—

  He smmed his elbow into Drake’s neck.

  Drake stumbled—

  Batman twisted mid-air—

  Kicked him across the face.

  Drake dropped.

  The ground cracked beneath him.

  Batman stood, chest rising and falling.

  Drake didn’t move.

  Didn’t get up.

  And then—

  He ughed.

  “Hah... hahahaha… not bad.”

  He sat up, coughing blood.

  “You win, Batman.”

  “But be careful...”

  “The real monsters in this academy... they’re watching now.”

  ---

  Aftermath

  Batman walked out of the arena.

  No cheers.

  No cps.

  Just the darkness.

  And the echo of his own steps.

  But behind him—

  a name was carved into the whispers of Division A.

  “The Dark Knight... he beat Drake Valtor.”

  And just like that,

  A legend was born. ---