SON OF BATMAN

Trigon's expression shifted from confusion to amusement, then to something darker as he recognized the boy who had once defied him, now transformed into something far more dangerous. His memory dredged up the image of the boy who had stood by Raven's side all those years ago, the one who had fought him with a tenacity that left a mark even on a demon's mind.

"My, how you've grown," Trigon rumbled, his fiery eyes narrowing with a cruel interest. He gazed down at Damian, taking in the dark, consuming depths of his eyes, eyes that were pure, pitch-black, endless darkness, void of light or color, unlike Raven's purple darkness. Those eyes seemed to challenge even Trigon's own darkness, promising depths of power the demon lord had not expected to find in a mortal.

The air between them crackled with an invisible tension, the very fabric of this otherworldly realm seeming to twist and contort around their confrontation. Trigon chuckled, a low and dreadful sound, resonating like a rumble of thunder. "To think you were able to enter here…" His gaze swept over Damian once more, and was surprised, by the baleful aura surrounding him. The demon's eyes narrowed as he scanned the human in front of him, "How can this be?" he muttered, his voice tinged with disbelief. "This pressure you're giving off… this darkness," he emphasized, almost tasting the sinister air surrounding Damian. "and that aura that's even more ominous than mine… It seems you're no longer that little boy from long ago."

Damian met Trigon's gaze Head-on with a stoic and indifferent look, showing none of the terror that a human is supposed to have upon coming into contact with a devil such as Trigon. The chains binding Trigon rattled softly, as if responding to the clash of wills between them.

Damian's expression remained unreadable as he stood there, his face a mask of calm defiance. The very air seemed to grow heavier, thick with the weight of their opposing forces. The oppressive weight of Trigon's presence would have been enough to crush any normal human, but Damian didn't flinch, didn't move a muscle. Instead, he simply stared, his gaze boring into Trigon's with an indifference that should be impossible for a human to display in a situation such as the one they were currently in.

The silence stretched between them, thick with the charged tension of two opposing forces. Trigon's massive form seemed to pulse with barely restrained power, the remaining chains around him rattling faintly as though reacting to the confrontation. Each link in those chains glowed brighter, as if struggling to contain not just Trigon's power, but the crushing pressure generated by this unexpected standoff. Damian's aura, dark and cold, pressed back, unyielding, creating an invisible boundary that even Trigon hesitated to cross.

The demon's grin faded slightly, the amusement in his eyes giving way to something else, a faint flicker of uncertainty, buried beneath layers of arrogance and cruelty. "You dare to look at me like that, boy?" he sneered, his tone, no doubt, meant to be dripping with disdain, but instead it carried a tremor so slight it might as well have been imagined. "Do you have any idea what stands before you? You should be trembling, yet you stand there as if…as if…"

The words died in his throat, choking on the impossibility of what he was witnessing. Trigon's voice trailed off, caught on the edge of a thought he didn't want to acknowledge. This human, this insignificant creature, stood before him with a calm that defied reason, his steady gaze refusing to bend under the weight of Trigon's presence. A ripple of unease spread through the demon's massive frame, his muscles tensing involuntarily beneath the glowing chains. A wave of rage coursed through the demon as he felt the shift, a faint but undeniable pressure coming from Damian. It was impossible, ludicrous even, but there was no denying what he felt: Danger.

It gnawed at the edges of Trigon's mind, unsettling him in a way he had never experienced. The ancient columns around them seemed to pulse in rhythm with their silent battle, the runes carved into their surface flickering erratically. Damian's presence wasn't just a nuisance; it was pushing back against his own, resisting his oppressive force with a kind of quiet intensity that should have been laughable, and yet, it wasn't. The air around them buzzed with tension, the space between them feeling like a battlefield where two titanic forces collided. Except one of those forces was a mere human, and that fact alone sent a ripple of confusion and anger through Trigon's mind.

The peaceful realm that had been meant as Trigon's prison now felt like an arena, the serene trees and clear sky a stark contrast to the darkness radiating from both beings. For a creature like Trigon, who had faced and conquered beings of unimaginable power, the idea that a human could radiate such confidence, such defiance, such…indifference towards him was absurd. And yet, standing before Damian, he couldn't deny the reality of his own reaction, a flicker of doubt, a question that had no answer. For the first time in eons, he felt the smallest, most infuriating hint of unease in the pit of his core.

The darkness in Damian's eyes was not that of a frightened mortal. It was deep, unfathomable, and disturbingly steady. Like twin black holes, they seemed to pull at something within Trigon himself, threatening to draw out his very essence.

As their gazes locked, Trigon felt the oppressive weight he normally imposed on others being mirrored back at him. It was as if Damian's very presence had become a black hole, a void that absorbed and resisted Trigon's power. It was subtle, almost imperceptible, but it was there, chipping away at the bedrock of Trigon's certainty.

As Trigon stared into Damian's dark pupils, all he saw was a deep bottomless black hole, an abyss that promised to swallow him whole should he overstep.

A cold sweat broke out across Trigon's crimson skin, something he hadn't experienced in millennia. The sneer he had on his lips at the beginning was long gone, replaced by a look of something dangerously close to... hesitation. A subtle tremor ran through his massive frame, so slight that no mortal eye would have noticed, but to Trigon it felt like an earthquake, a crack in the façade of his own invincibility.

"...as if you're not afraid," Trigon managed to finish, though the words felt hollow and forced, as if he had spoken them to convince himself as much as Damian. His four eyes blinked rapidly, as if trying to dispel an illusion that refused to fade. The human's dark eyes bore into him, unblinking, unyielding, and for a brief, maddening moment, Trigon felt small, even though he was the one with the towering frame, even though he was the one looking down on the other party.

A low growl escaped his throat, a desperate attempt to reassert his dominance, to silence the creeping sensation of threat rising within him. But deep down, somewhere in the depths of his demonic soul, a tiny spark of alarm flickered to life, a fear that Damian might be more than he appeared. A fear that this human, who should have been insignificant, might hold a power that could not be dismissed so easily.

It was at this time Damian shifted his gaze from Trigon and turned to the side. The demon lord released a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding, his chains creaking as his tensed muscles finally relaxed. The moment their eye contact broke, Trigon felt the oppressive weight that had settled over him lift, like a shadow receding with the first hint of dawn. He took in a deep, rattling breath, the brief, unsettling sensation of threat fading as quickly as it had come, yet its echo remained, a phantom pressure that lingered in the depths of his awareness.

Damian's focus now lay elsewhere. His movements were fluid and purposeful, a stark contrast to the stillness he had maintained during his confrontation with Trigon. He moved with a calm and deliberate precision, his attention entirely fixed on a small, trembling figure huddled on the ground not far away.

The figure was crouched on the ground, trying to make themselves as small as possible, their hands clutched tightly around their head, their entire frame shaking. This figure was none other than Raven, but she looked diminished, her body frail, her skin pale and gaunt, as though the strength had been drained from her over time. Her cloak, once a deep, rich purple, now seemed faded and threadbare, hanging limply around her hunched form. She muttered to herself in a fragile whisper, her eyes shut tightly against the torment surrounding her.

Raven seemed oblivious to Damian's presence, her eyes squeezed shut, lost in the haze of torment that Trigon's relentless taunts had inflicted. Damian's expression softened imperceptibly as he approached her, the overwhelming darkness in his eyes seeming to recede just slightly.