Chapter 237: Fear & Gratitude
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George, standing straight as ever, clasped his hands behind his back. "On the news, Master Arthur? They are on every channel. They are the subject of every broadcast, every headline. Some call them angels of shadow, others.. nightmares turned saviors. Governments are... unsettled, to say the least. Ordinary people, however, speak of them with gratitude."
Arthur smirked faintly, though his eyes remained cold. "Gratitude mixed with fear, I bet."
"Precisely," George replied. "You must understand, sir most cannot reconcile such creatures with salvation. The imagery of a dragon made of darkness and giants forged from death itself is... disquieting, to say the least."
Arthur leaned back, staring at the ceiling. "They were never meant to be pretty. They were meant to survive. To make others survive."
George tilted his head, his tone softening. "And yet, by their very existence, they have changed how the world sees such things. For better or worse, Master Arthur, you have stepped out of the shadows. The people now know of the hand behind these creatures. They have seen you before during the battle with Trigon in Metropolis. And whether they fear you, praise you, or curse your name... they will never forget it."
Arthur chuckled low, almost bitter. "It’s not a big deal." He rubbed his temples. "Tens of thousands died, George. Maybe millions across the stars. And people are worried about my shadows being scary?"
George’s expression softened in rare sympathy. "That is the paradox of mankind, sir. They will always fear the unknown more than the familiar. But take heart in this, they are alive to fear at all. Thanks, in no small part, to you."
Arthur looked at him for a long moment, then finally let the smirk tug at his lips again. "Sophisticated as ever, George."
"Merely truthful, Master Arthur," George replied, straightening his coat. "Shall I prepare something to eat? You look as though you’ve not had a proper meal in days."
Arthur leaned back into the chair, eyes closing. "...Yeah. That’d be nice."
The muted television flickered silently in the background, still showing the image of a dragon of shadow silhouetted against firelight an omen, a protector, a terror, all in one.
****
JUMP CITY -
The Blackwynd family estate in Jump City was quiet that evening, but the atmosphere in the living room was anything but calm. The flicker of the television painted the room in pale light, voices of newscasters overlapping with the shaky, chaotic footage of blackened streets, burning wreckage, and monstrous silhouettes of shadow.
Adam sat slouched on the couch, arms folded tight across his chest, his eyes narrowed at the screen. His mother, Eleanor Blackwynd, perched gracefully on the edge of her chair, back perfectly straight, hands folded in her lap in the way only years of noble discipline could teach. Even so, her knuckles whitened.
The report was coming to an end.
"...and while governments around the world are scrambling to address what some are calling ’the Shadow Crisis,’ eyewitnesses link these beings to the same figure who appeared in Metropolis months ago. The same one who fought the demonic entity in open battle. Analysts believe the two events are not isolated, but tied to the presence of this mysterious man, some are calling him different sort of titles. Whoever he is, the world will not soon forget this intervention during this dark event."
The screen shifted to archival footage, grainy images from Metropolis. A tall figure, wreathed in violet and darkness, standing against the backdrop of a ruined street. Shadows spilling from him like an endless tide. That same image now connected across the world to the shadow army.
Adam pinched the bridge of his nose, exhaling. "Well. There it is. They’ve put two and two together."
Eleanor let out a long, quiet sigh, her voice steady though the edge of worry was unmistakable. "This is too much attention. Far too much. The world should be speaking of the end of the world that almost happened. They should be praising the heroes who stopped it. Instead, they fixate on the shadows of my son." Her gaze lingered on the screen as the footage looped again. "On your brother."
Adam frowned, jaw tightening. "Because people always want something to point at. Something to fear. Shadows are easy." He leaned back, rubbing the side of his neck. "And Arthur... Arthur doesn’t exactly blend in when he shows up with a dragon made of darkness."
Before Eleanor could respond, a low hum stirred at the corner of the room. A faint ripple in the air, Galatea stood by the window, her presence impossible to ignore. Her body, though humanoid, bled faint plumes of shadow, her violet eyes glowing faintly as she crossed her arms over her chest.
"It matters not, Lady Eleanor," she said, her voice calm, every word laced with unshakable loyalty. "My king cares little for such things. Praise or fear, adoration or vilification it is beneath his concern. He commands thousands because it is his right. The world’s gaze changes nothing."
Eleanor looked at her, steady but weary. "Be that as it may, public attention is a dangerous thing. Empires have risen and fallen not because of what they did, but because of how the world perceived them. they might see him as a danger." She folded her hands tighter, the sharpness in her voice tempered by motherly worry. "And my son has never sought such attention. Now it will find him whether he wills it or not."
Adam tilted his head back with a humorless laugh. "She’s not wrong, Mom. This place..."he gestured vaguely around the room, as though the estate itself could hear him, "...isn’t exactly the fortress of solitude. Shadows, Kaisel who keeps circling in the sky, glowing soldiers...people will start connecting dots faster than we can erase them." His voice dipped, half serious, half sarcastic. "I’m starting to think we should probably change houses."
Galatea’s eyes narrowed at that, faint smoke curling tighter from her shoulders. "No. This estate is under my protection, as are both of you. No shadow shall fail in its duty."
Adam raised a brow at her, smirking faintly. "You sound offended I even suggested it..."
"I am." Galatea said without hesitation, her tone ironclad.
****
Back in Gotham, the smell of roasted meat and fresh bread wafted through the dining hall of Arthur’s Estate, faint candles flickering against the polished wood.
George, dignified as ever, set down a platter before Arthur. "Master Arthur," he said with a faint smile, straightening his waistcoat, "I took the liberty of preparing a proper meal. Your shadows, while formidable in battle, are quite dreadful in the kitchen."
Arthur gave a tired chuckle and muttered, "Can’t argue with that. I’ve tried letting one of my shadow demons cook once, it was a disaster." He wasted no time in pulling the plate closer, tearing into the food like a starving wolf. Meat, bread, vegetables it didn’t matter. He devoured it with single-minded hunger, every bite sharp and ravenous, as though he hadn’t eaten in a month.
George sat across from him with his own plate, watching at first with satisfaction. But as Arthur’s jaw worked furiously and the sounds of cutlery clinking filled the room, his own appetite faded. He set down his fork gently, hands folding over one another. His gaze lingered on his young master, quiet concern flickering in his eyes.
Arthur noticed. Mid-bite, he slowed, narrowing his blue eyes at George. He didn’t say anything, but the way he studied him made his suspicion plain. George gave the faintest shake of his head, his lips tugging into a polite but tired smile, as if to say, ’Do not worry for me, sir.’
Arthur looked away and kept eating, though slower now.
The momentary quiet shattered.
CRASH!
The grand double doors of the dining hall nearly flew off their hinges. Wood splintered, the sound echoing like thunder through the estate.
George shot up instantly, his chair scraping against the floor as his hand went to his chest. "Oh boy..." he muttered under his breath, staring at the door in dismay.
Arthur didn’t even flinch. He set down his fork, sighed, and wiped his mouth slowly and in calm manner. "Shit.."
Kara stormed into the room, golden hair practically crackling as her cape swayed behind her. Her boots clicked hard against the floor with each step, her eyes blazing like miniature suns. Her voice cut through the room.
"Arthur Blackwynd."
George blinked at the way her voice rang with indignation, and then, almost helplessly, muttered towards Arthur, "It’s Miss Kara. Why... why does she sound pissed?"
Arthur leaned back in his chair, draping one arm lazily over the backrest, feigning innocence so shamelessly it was almost comical. He tilted his head, lips quirking faintly. "I don’t know."
George turned his head slowly toward him, one brow raised so high it could have disappeared into his hairline. "Oh, you do know," he whispered, more to himself than anyone else.
Kara slammed her hand against the long dining table, making the plates rattle. "Don’t play dumb with me, Arthur!"
Arthur’s expression remained cool, unbothered, though the corner of his mouth twitched like he was fighting back a smirk. "Play dumb? Kara, I’ve barely finished my dinner. If this is about the doors, you could have just knocked."
George let out the most theatrical sigh, covering his face with one gloved hand. "And here we go..."
/-\
If you Like this story! Check out my other stories! Solo leveling in Westeros.
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If you wish to read more or simply support me than check out my patreon at
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You can Get Access to 3 More Chapters OR 7 More Chapters if you want