Godfather Owl: Guardian of Batman [115]

Bruce originally intended to keep his profile low—hiding in the shadows and carefully luring any superhuman threats into traps where he could turn the tables.

Kathoom had a name for this tactic: fishing enforcement.

But the arrival of the pursuers and the mysterious blade had derailed Bruce’s plan. Subtlety was no longer an option.

Armed with the power of Nth metal, the hunters would inevitably find him.

If that was the case, it was better to step directly into the spotlight.

“We’re lucky this world has its own unwritten rules,” Kathoom said, circling Bruce. “So long as you stay under the cameras and public scrutiny, even the worst of the Supes will have to act like saints.”

“So joining the Seven is actually the safest move,” Bruce concluded.

Kathoom nodded. “Exactly. You’ve inherited a fortune of a hundred billion. If you keep a low profile, people will only covet it more.”

“But if you openly reveal your presence, the fear of public backlash will keep most in check.”

“Joining the Seven requires a superhero identity,” Bruce said, thinking aloud. “But which one?”

One thing was certain: Batman was off the table.

The Seven might function like an idol group, relying on PR stunts and manufactured drama to draw attention. But the title of Batman held immense personal significance for Bruce.

To exploit it in a spectacle would be sacrilege.

He needed a new identity, one tailored specifically for this world.

“That’s easy,” Kathoom said with a playful hoot. “Just use your current look.”

“My current look?”

Bruce gestured at himself, confused.

He can’t be serious.

He was a thirteen-year-old boy. How could that possibly work as a hero? Would the public even take him seriously?

“That’s because you don’t get it,” Kathoom said with a laugh. “Sure, the Seven used to prioritize handsome faces and diverse branding, but at their core, they care about profitability.”

“Your competitors are plenty, but to stand out, you need a different angle.”

“Bruce, I call your angle… The Nurtured Hero.”

Bruce frowned.

“Nurtured hero? That sounds… off.”

Kathoom pressed on. “Trust me, this persona will be a hit!”

“First, you’re worth a hundred billion, which makes you a titan in this capitalist society—hero material by default.”

“Second, you’re a good-looking kid. Your age makes you instantly relatable and marketable. Don’t forget, you were taught by Gilderoy Lockhart himself!”

Half-taught, the owl thought, smirking to himself.

Although Bruce found Kathoom’s pitch bizarre, he couldn’t immediately refute the logic behind it.

“And lastly!” Kathoom declared. “You’re simultaneously strong and weak.”

“You’re an orphan.”

“How does being an orphan make me weak?” Bruce asked. “A hundred-billion-dollar orphan is anything but helpless.”

“Of course it does!” Kathoom exclaimed. “True strength means you can claim to be weak and still demand sympathy. Real weaklings? Nobody cares about them.”

Kathoom envisioned Bruce as a hero who embodied an underdog spirit—a dreamer with immense potential and tragic undertones.

“Will this really work?” Bruce asked, uncertain.

“Relax,” Kathoom said, patting Bruce on the shoulder with his wing. “This character will attract tons of mom fans!”

With the character sorted, the next question was: what kind of superhero would Bruce be?

His Hogwarts training gave him endless possibilities to craft a unique identity.

Kathoom thought for a moment before coming up with an idea.

“We’ve got the female demographic covered, but we can’t neglect male fans either,” he said.

Bruce’s main competitor would likely be Starlight: a sweet, idealistic young woman with a track record in performing arts and advocacy for women’s empowerment.

A formidable opponent.

“To win over male fans, you’ll need a unique appeal,” Kathoom mused. “What about a transformation gimmick? Like turning into a different form—or even a mech?”

A magic-mech hybrid? Kathoom wasn’t sure how well it would land, but he’d seen similar themes in shows like Kamen Rider and Super Sentai.

“You’re ambitious,” Bruce said, skeptical. “But where am I supposed to get a mech?”

“As it happens…” Kathoom grinned, his wings flaring dramatically. “I found one a while back!”

With a flourish, the owl produced a red-and-gold suit of armor from his feathers.

The Iron Man suit.

A relic scavenged from the Red Skull’s collection.

“Ta-da!”

Kathoom placed the armor on the ground, introducing it with exaggerated reverence.

“Designed by Stark Industries. Almost brand new. A little tweaking with a Transfiguration spell, and it’ll be your very own knightly battle armor!”

For a moment, Bruce could only stare.

Then, a thought crossed his mind: What else is Kathoom hiding in those feathers?

He had half a mind to shake the owl upside down and see what else might fall out.

“Well? Don’t just stand there—get to work!” Kathoom said impatiently. “We’ll reforge this into a knightly design. You’ll be the new Wizard-Knight!”

—

Once everything was decided, Bruce purchased a modest villa as a temporary base.

Kathoom flitted around the ceiling with a smartphone clutched in his claws.

“Memorized the script? Time to start filming!”

To apply for the Seven, candidates had to send Vought Corporation a portfolio.

Starlight had submitted a comprehensive record of her training, accolades, and performances.

Bruce had none of that. He’d have to start from scratch.

“Got it memorized ages ago,” Bruce said, holding a script. But he hesitated. “You’re sure about this opening line? ‘Hello, citizen producers’? What does that even mean?”

“Don’t overthink it,” Kathoom said dismissively. “Kids make mistakes—it’s endearing!”

Holding up the phone, he signaled for Bruce to begin.

“Alright, let’s roll!”

Bruce sighed, setting the script aside and stepping in front of the camera.

He wasn’t sure how this would go, but there was no harm in trying.

Taking a deep breath, he stood in position, waiting for Kathoom’s cue.

“Action!” the owl called out.

At the signal, Bruce began.

Step one: a polite bow.

—

The Seven were not always six.

Until recently, they had been a full team. But after Lamplighter’s retirement, a spot had opened, sparking wild speculation among fans about who would become the next member.

Theories and rumors swirled endlessly, with no definitive answer.

Then one day, Vought’s official website released an announcement:

“Who Will Be the Seventh? You Decide!”

Clicking the link revealed a gallery of contestants’ photos.

There were many candidates, but two images were prominently displayed at the top, signaling Vought’s clear preferences for the role.

The first photo featured a blonde girl with a radiant smile. Dressed in a pristine white uniform, she exuded youth and vitality.

Her description read:

Hero Name: Starlight
Real Name: Annie January
Powers: Absorbing energy, releasing electric blasts, and superhuman endurance.

Clicking her image led to a promotional video and an interview.

In her footage, Starlight’s sweet demeanor and girl-next-door charm left a strong impression on viewers.

To many, she seemed the obvious choice.

But then they clicked on the second image and froze in disbelief.

Was Vought serious?

The second candidate wasn’t a man or a woman—it was a child.

Hero Name: Wizard
Real Name: Bruce Wayne
Powers: Mysterious magical abilities, including summoning a powerful magic-powered suit in critical moments.

Opening Bruce’s profile revealed a promotional video of his own.

The boy’s face appeared on-screen, his youthful, shy smile so sincere it seemed to pierce straight through the viewer’s heart.

No one knew how much time Bruce had spent perfecting that smile—modeled after none other than the dreamboat of countless witches, Gilderoy Lockhart.

With just a glance, countless female fans were captivated by Bruce’s pure, innocent charm.

He looks so clean, they thought.

There wasn’t a trace of malice in his expression—only untainted, childlike earnestness.

As the video continued, more of Bruce Wayne’s backstory was revealed:

Thirteen years old. Grew up in an orphanage. Inherited a hundred-billion-dollar fortune. Had always dreamed of being a hero. Wanted to dedicate his wealth to helping others.

What a wonderful child!

Within moments, sympathy for Bruce spread like wildfire. His story tugged at the hearts of viewers everywhere.

A boy who had lost everything but grew up resilient, harboring a dream of heroism.

And when fate handed him the power and resources others could only dream of, he didn’t let it corrupt him. Instead, he chose to serve the world.

Was there a better candidate for the Seven?

Many fans felt compelled to help him achieve his dream.

Within hours of the announcement, social media exploded.

Compared to Starlight’s disorganized male fans, Bruce’s female supporters quickly united under a common message:

“We’re going to help our precious Bruce achieve his dream!”

“His potential is limitless—he’s the best choice for the Seventh!”

“Bruce is perfect for the Seven. He’s still young, with no fixed outlook on life. Under the guidance of heroes like Homelander, he’s sure to become an even greater hero!”

The tide of online support became overwhelmingly one-sided in Bruce’s favor.

But then, a video of Starlight began circulating.

In it, she sat alone, tears streaming silently down her face.

“I just want to prove that a girl like me can have a chance to achieve her dreams,” she said between sobs.

“I have nothing left. If I don’t make it this time, I’ll have no choice but to settle down, get married, and live an unremarkable life.”

The video hit like a shockwave, injecting a fresh burst of support into Starlight’s camp.

It rallied her male fans, reigniting their passion.

“Forget Bruce!” one user declared. “Guys, we’re fighting for our goddess Starlight—let’s go!”