Godfather Owl: Guardian of Batman [1]

Gotham, late night, a dark alley.

A gunshot echoes. A pearl necklace scatters across the ground.

Shadows fall like curtains over two cold, lifeless bodies, while a child sits, numb and uncomprehending.

In the distance, police sirens draw closer.

—

“When I was young, I was terrified of bats.”

“But the adults told me that bats were even more afraid of me.”

—

“Master Wayne.”

Inside the solemn halls of Wayne Manor, Alfred, the old butler, steps steadily, carrying a tray of warm tea and pastries.

Gently, he places this small token of care in front of Bruce Wayne.

Bruce is not yet the legendary figure cloaked in a bat’s cape. He is merely an eight-year-old boy.

A child who has just lost both parents to the cruel tides of fate.

His gaze is hollow, devoid of life, as if his very soul has been drained away.

He stares through the window, the cityscape of Gotham a blurred silhouette in his eyes.

His thoughts drift far, far away, unresponsive to Alfred’s quiet call.

Alfred stands in silence for a moment before turning to leave, intending to grant Bruce a solitary space for reflection.

Yet, just as he reaches the door, Bruce suddenly calls out to him.

“Alfred!”

“Yes, Master Bruce?”

Alfred turns, his tone calm and concerned.

“It’s my fault…”

Bruce’s voice trembles, tears spilling over.

“If I hadn’t been afraid, they wouldn’t have left the theater early…”

“No, no, no!”

Alfred cuts him off hastily, his hand gently stroking Bruce’s hair, a gesture both tender and firm.

“You did nothing wrong, Bruce. The fault lies entirely with the criminal who committed this tragedy. It was his doing, not yours. Do you understand?”

“But my father was a good man… Can’t good people get a good ending in Gotham?”

“Because this city is sick.”

Alfred’s gaze shifts to the window, where the dark outline of Gotham lingers, a city struggling through the night.

“Sick to its core.”

Bruce struggles to accept this. “Why?”

Alfred does his best to keep his expression steady.

He knows that for an eight-year-old, Gotham’s twisted, entangled roots of corruption are far too complex.

So, he chooses words that a young boy might better grasp.

“Because of a curse.” Alfred’s voice is low and resonant.

Bruce’s head snaps up, shock and confusion evident on his face.

“A curse?”

He repeats the word, as though grappling with its meaning.

“Yes. A curse from a demon.” Alfred continues, “It cursed Gotham, trapping its people in endless cycles of destruction.”

In this city, crime runs rampant, while justice often finds itself without a foothold.

The wicked are rewarded, while the righteous perish unsung.

This is Gotham.

The so-called “demon” is none other than the insatiable greed festering in Gotham’s people.

So Alfred thinks.

As someone who has watched Bruce grow, Alfred’s deepest wish is that he could shield Bruce from the city’s poison.

If Bruce could live a carefree life, leave Gotham’s turbulent shores behind, it would be a blessing.

But fate had other plans. Rather than dissuading Bruce, Alfred’s words seemed to stir something deep within him.

—

Two years later—

In the vast library of Wayne Manor.

The towering bookshelves line the walls, filled with ancient scrolls and hefty tomes.

Ten-year-old Bruce hunches over an old book, surrounded by volumes opened and strewn around him.

“So that’s it… That’s it…”

Bruce murmurs to himself. After two years of searching, he finally believes that Alfred wasn’t lying.

The book in his hands chronicles Gotham’s history and the Wayne family lineage.

It tells of an old, shocking story.

The text reveals that an ancestor of the Wayne family, none other than the Founding Father Thomas Jefferson, once made a fateful decision amidst the flames of the Revolutionary War—

He summoned a demon named Barbatos.

The demon wielded great power, helping the fledgling nation secure its victory for independence.

Yet the victory came at a steep cost.

To prevent this demon from wreaking havoc, Jefferson was forced to seal it beneath Gotham’s ground, ensuring peace for the nation.

Bruce’s fingers trace the pages. His heart races, every breath laced with the weight of history.

Finally, he understands. The darkness in Gotham isn’t aimless; it has deep, long-rooted origins.

Every corner of this city, every street, could be shadowed by the echoes of this sealed history.

His parents were murdered because of these demons!

Young Bruce suddenly stands, his innocent face hardened with resolve.

The sins of the past—he would be the one to set them right. The demons that polluted Gotham—he would destroy them!

Two years had not dulled his hatred.

At ten years old, Bruce still possessed the recklessness and fervor of youth.

He didn’t consider the consequences of failure.

To avenge his parents, he was prepared to confront the demon head-on.

Even if it meant they both perished together.

—

Young Bruce, flashlight in hand, follows the directions in the ancient texts and finds a vast underground chamber in Gotham.

No sooner has he entered than a massive swarm of bats flies out like a cloud of darkness.

Bruce flinches, unable to face his greatest fear.

Once the bats disperse, Bruce takes in the full scope of the cavern. Just as the book described, a colossal owl statue is carved into the stone wall.

Bruce pulls out a small knife from his pocket. Following the ancient ritual, he begins to chant the incantation to break the seal.

As the chant echoes, the air around him seems to come alive, a sinister aura spreading out slowly.

To destroy the demon, he would first have to release it.

Bruce was ready.

He had his father’s revolver hidden in his coat pocket. The moment the demon appeared, he’d show it the power of human courage and ingenuity.

The ritual nears its end. Bruce takes the final step.

He slices his palm, smearing his blood over the statue.

Instantly, a swirl of thick, black mist pours from the statue, growing denser by the second.

Bruce tightens his grip on the revolver, heart racing, bracing himself for the life-or-death showdown ahead.

A wild, maniacal laugh comes from the mist as the demon’s seal breaks completely.

At that moment, all fear leaves Bruce. His young face is filled with steely resolve, his hand holding justice, ready to strike.

Then, he hears the demon’s first words as it reenters the world.

“Oh, mortal who dared to summon the mightiest of demon kings, I shall grant you wealth beyond imagining—wait, are you Bruce Wayne?”

—

T/N: Hello! I’m a big fan of Batman! Now you know I read the stories along as I translate so forgive me if I end up dropping this but I like stories with depth to them!

Anyway with that let’s get into ittt!