Bruce kept his promise—he returned safely to the Batcave.
Aunt May and Jessica wanted to speak with him, but the moment he stepped out of the vehicle, he rushed straight into a chamber he had designed specifically for himself.
Or rather, calling it a prison might be more accurate.
As soon as Bruce locked the heavy door behind him, he collapsed to the ground, gasping for air.
Cold sweat poured down his face like rain.
He was terrified—not just of his own actions but of the state he had been in. His emotions had been dangerously unstable.
Something was wrong.
Bruce had faced many situations, perhaps not as many as other Batmen, but such emotional instability should never have surfaced within him.
Ever since arriving in this world, his mind had always maintained a constant grip on rationality.
But today, it felt as though all that reason had been overwhelmed by emotion.
"You're just exhausted," Thomas's voice echoed in his mind.
He wanted Bruce to rest.
Even though, as Batmen, they never truly entertained the thought of rest, they still found moments for it—however brief.
But what about Bruce now?
Ever since he arrived in this world, he had barely had a proper moment to rest, let alone a chance to fully develop himself.
One crisis followed another, never giving him a break.
Even Thomas felt that everything he had gone through in comparison was far simpler than what Bruce now faced.
"No!" Bruce refuted Thomas's words.
He was well aware of his physical condition.
Just as he was fully aware of his psychological state.
He was still far from reaching his limit.
This time, Bruce's consciousness dived directly into the prison within his own mind.
Thomas stood outside the cell, watching him with concern.
The Red Death, however, remained unexpectedly calm.
There was no movement.
Bruce ignored the Red Death's presence and instead examined the various cells around him. He was certain this situation wasn't its doing.
He stopped in front of one particular cell.
Looking up, he stared into the pitch-black darkness beyond the bars.
The answer to why he had lost control of his emotions lay within this cell.
Suddenly, a pair of glowing red eyes appeared inside.
They locked onto Bruce's gaze.
A towering figure—no, something more akin to a small giant—slowly stepped out from the depths of the cell.
Its gray-white exoskeleton was lined with bone-like spines, and its monstrous face was covered in black external protrusions.
If not for the barely visible bat emblem on its chest, no one would have believed this creature had anything to do with Batman.
But it was a Batman—though calling it the Ravager might be more fitting.
A sharp hissing sound, like steam escaping from a boiling furnace, emanated from its mouth.
An emerald-green vapor swirled around its head.
Clearly, this thing had intended to use the gas to provoke Bruce.
But the prison's restraints prevented it from acting.
"Why do you hesitate? What are you waiting for?" The Ravager glared at Bruce from within the cell. "Are you waiting for them to kill everyone? To reduce this world to nothing?"
This Bruce had the power to overturn everything, to save the entire world completely.
Yet, he continued to rely on his fragile, mortal body to pursue actions that ultimately achieved nothing.
"Those people will never listen to you. All they care about is keeping their own seats of power. Their very existence makes everything we strive for meaningless."
As the Ravager spoke, its form began to shrink.
Now, it looked exactly like Bruce—only without the Bat-suit.
"Kill them," the Ravager urged. "Then you can create a brand-new world—one without sin."
At that moment, the Red Death finally spoke as well.
"Everything will unfold exactly as you desire."
Bruce remained silent, his gaze calm as he looked at the Ravager standing before him.
"You're not seriously thinking of continuing that mission you'll never truly complete, are you?" The Ravager scoffed at Bruce's resolve, dismissing it with disdain.
He once thought the same way.
Until that imposter, who had blended into Earth so seamlessly, suddenly massacred the entire planet.
That was when he realized—everything he had believed in was wrong.
Batman's true duty was to eliminate all threats before they could take root.
To never give them the chance to commit evil.
If only he had done that, his world wouldn't have been reduced to ruins.
And he wouldn't have been the only one left alive.
"They will."
Bruce finally spoke.
But he wasn't responding to the Ravager's latest question.
He was answering something the Ravager had said earlier.
"What?"
The Ravager knew exactly what Bruce meant, but he wanted to hear if Bruce truly believed in those fools.
"They will." Determination burned in Bruce's eyes.
"If I could speak to him once, I can speak to him twice."
"But next time, things won't be the same as they are now."
As Bruce uttered these words, the Ravager shed his humanoid form, reverting to the monstrous state in which he had killed his world's Superman.
He hurled a crushing punch at the prison door.
Yet, nothing happened.
The door stood firm, not even dented.
The Ravager didn't stop. His eyes flared red, unleashing searing heat vision against the cell door.
But it was all in vain.
The same beams that could tear through anything didn't even make the door glow.
Bruce no longer spared the Ravager a glance. He turned and walked away.
As he passed the Red Death's cell, the crimson specter spoke.
"We are the same."
Bruce paused for a brief moment but said nothing in return.
"Remember this! One day, you'll come begging me for help!!" The Ravager roared.
His voice echoed through the prison.
But there was no reply.
Bruce was already gone.
"AAAHHH!!!"
Only the Ravager's frenzied screams remained.
Outside the mindscape, Aunt May gently knocked on Bruce's cell door.
"Bruce! Bruce!" Her voice carried concern. She had no idea what he had just experienced.
But locking himself away the moment he returned was never a good sign.
Just like her nephew—whenever something dangerous was about to happen, he never told her.
The problem was, she always ended up seeing it on the news.
Which only made her worry more.
"Don't be afraid, child. No matter what happens, we'll get through it together." Aunt May stopped knocking and spoke softly through the door.
She knew Bruce could hear her.
"It will all pass."
"I'll be right here with you."
Her voice gradually faded into silence.
Bruce knew—she hadn't left.
Inside the cell, Bruce had finally calmed his restless mind.
He sat cross-legged on the floor, regulating his emotions.
He needed to find the right state of mind before facing them.
(End of Chapter)
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