Bruce Wayne walked through the halls of Gotham Academy like he owned the place. Which, technically, his family's foundation did after the generous donations over the past nine years.
Students parted around him without thinking about it. Some stared. Others whispered. A few of the braver ones called out greetings that he returned with easy smiles and casual waves.
He was seventeen now, a senior, and the transformation from the traumatized eight-year-old was complete. At least on the surface.
Bruce stood just over six feet tall with a build that made the school's varsity athletes look soft by comparison.
His shoulders filled out his custom tailored uniform in ways that made half the female student body and a fair portion of the male population take notice. Sharp jaw, intense blue eyes, dark hair that always looked perfectly styled even when he'd just come from gym class.
But it wasn't just his looks. Bruce Wayne had become a legend at Gotham Academy for entirely different reasons.
He held the highest GPA in school history across all subjects. Perfect scores on every standardized test.
Already accepted to twelve Ivy League universities with full scholarships he didn't need. Published papers in three scientific journals under a pseudonym that had actual professors debating his theories.
Captain of the debate team that had won nationals three years running. Black belt demonstrations during gym class that had gone viral online.
Fluent in fifteen languages, though he pretended it was only five to avoid too many questions.
And despite all of that, he wasn't the insufferable genius type. Bruce was charming, funny, quick with a self-deprecating joke.
He helped struggling students with their homework. He funded school programs through the Wayne Foundation. He showed up to every school event and actually seemed to enjoy himself.
The perfect golden boy. Gotham's prince. The city's hope for a better future.
All of it was a carefully constructed performance. But after nine years of practice, the mask fit so perfectly that even Bruce sometimes forgot where the act ended and reality began.
'Status,' he thought as he navigated the morning crowd.
The familiar blue screen appeared in the corner of his vision, invisible to everyone else.
**[STATUS PANEL]**
**[NAME: BRUCE WAYNE]**
**[AGE: 17 YEARS]**
**[PHYSIQUE: 92/100]* (Approaching absolute peak human)*
**[MIND: 89/100]* (Genius level intellect, multiple doctorates worth of knowledge)*
**[SPIRIT: 78/100]* (Exceptional willpower and mental fortitude)*
Nine years of brutal training in the Pocket Dimension. Eighteen years of actual time compressed into half that. The numbers spoke for themselves.
His Physique stat had climbed steadily but slowly as predicted, each point requiring more effort than the last.
At 92, he could bench press over 600 pounds, run a mile in under four minutes, and had reaction times that bordered on superhuman. Eight more points to reach perfect human peak, and those final points would be the hardest yet.
Mind had grown even more impressively. At 89, his intellect exceeded anything a normal human could achieve through natural means alone.
He'd mastered twelve scientific fields to doctorate level, could perform complex calculations in his head that would require computers for most people, and had developed detective skills that let him read crime scenes like books.
Spirit lagged behind slightly, but 78 was still exceptional. His willpower was iron-hard, his mental defenses nearly unbreakable.
Years of pushing through exhaustion and pain had forged something unshakeable inside him.
Bruce dismissed the screen as he reached his locker. Another student was already there, leaning against the metal door with a smirk that could cut glass.
Selina Kyle.
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