The Staff at the Edge of Destiny
When Damian finally stepped out of his personal dimension, the world felt… louder.
Not because anything had changed—but because he had.
The staff floated behind him as he emerged, incomplete but unmistakably powerful. Its shaft was forged from layered Gronckle Iron and refined alloys, veins of circuitry glowing faintly beneath the surface. Cybernetic architecture and arcane channels intertwined perfectly—technology and magic woven together with intent, not accident.
It was finished.
Almost.
Only one thing remained.
The Missing Heart
The Hextech Crystal rested in system storage, sealed away like a sleeping star.
Damian could feel it even now—pressure against reality itself. Not good. Not evil. Just there. A last resort written into existence.
The System's voice echoed in his mind, calm and absolute:
"Staff construction complete."
"Final step pending: Hextech Crystal integration."
"Warning: Once integrated, magical resonance will be detectable across the United States."
"Exact location will remain concealed while stored within system space."
"Only high-tier magic users and divine entities will sense its presence."
"Designated function: Last Stand Protocol. World Survival Class Artifact."
Damian exhaled slowly.
So it had reached that level.
A weapon—or shield—that could change destiny, but only once the world stood on the brink.
Not something to be rushed.
A Fruit Already Claimed—In His Mind
The System continued.
"Mission completion reward confirmed."
"Sube Sube no Mi (Smooth-Smooth Fruit) prepared for delivery upon final integration."
Damian didn't smile.
He already knew who the fruit was for.
Not a hero.
Not himself.
But someone who needed it to ensure the League of Assassins would survive this century… and the next.
A deal made in blood and foresight.
His grandfather would receive what was promised.
Control, Not Temptation
Damian could place the crystal into the staff right now.
He could finish the mission, claim the reward, and let the consequences ripple outward.
But he didn't.
Because power meant nothing without timing.
The staff was safest where it was—in his dimension, unreachable, untraceable, sealed away from even gods who could only feel its existence, not touch it.
He showered, changed, and finally ate something real instead of nutrient paste. Sitting alone, he let himself breathe.
For once, the system wasn't pushing him.
For once, the world wasn't ending today.
Tomorrow, he decided.
Tomorrow he would complete the staff.
Tomorrow he would claim the fruit.
Tomorrow he would take another step toward shaping a future no one else could see coming.
Unaware—or perhaps simply unconcerned—about how many eyes were already turning toward the United States, sensing a power that did not belong to this universe… and yet was preparing to decide its fate.