SHADOWS OF CURSES: A DC FANFIC

The days bled into each other, marked only by the relentless pursuit of control. Each morning, the faint light that filtered through the dirty window of his Gotham apartment was a reminder that another day had come, another day of learning how to bend cursed energy to his will. But progress was slow. Agonizingly slow.

He had come to understand one thing clearly: his power came from the darkest corners of his soul. The anger, the hatred, the grief—they were the fuel that powered Cleave. And while Cleave had become second nature to him, there was another technique lingering just beyond his reach: Dismantle.

Dismantle was different. It was a slashing technique, yes, but one that targeted inanimate objects rather than living beings. It was more subtle, more precise than Cleave, and that's what made it so frustrating. Every time he tried to unlock it, the cursed energy responded sluggishly, as though it didn't understand what he was asking it to do.

Sitting cross-legged on the floor, he stared at a glass bottle on the table in front of him. It was a simple target—something that would shatter easily under the right conditions. He had been at this for hours now, attempting to channel his energy into a clean, controlled strike that would sever the bottle in two without exploding it into shards.

He raised his hand, feeling the cursed energy coil within him like a snake, ready to strike. His eyes narrowed as he focused on the bottle, willing the energy to cut through it.

Nothing.

"Come on," he muttered, grinding his teeth. He could feel the energy thrumming inside him, begging to be released, but it wasn't responding the way he wanted.

He tried again, this time pulling harder on the cursed energy. He summoned the anger, the frustration—everything he could muster. For a brief second, he felt the energy surge to his fingertips, and then—

CRACK.

The bottle shattered into pieces, sending shards of glass flying across the room.

"Damn it!" he growled, slamming his fist on the ground. This wasn't working. Every time he tried to control the energy, it slipped out of his grasp like water through his fingers. Cleave had come to him naturally because it was violent, destructive—just like the emotions that fueled him. But Dismantle was more refined, and that was the problem. It required control, precision, and patience—things he had never needed before.

He got up, pacing the room as he tried to think. He could feel the cursed energy swirling inside him, restless and untamed. It wanted to be used, but it only responded to the rawest emotions—the anger, the hatred. That was the core of his power, but now he needed something more. He needed to master it, not just let it consume him.

"You're thinking too much."

The thought struck him out of nowhere. He had been focusing so hard on controlling the energy, on manipulating it like a tool, that he had forgotten one crucial thing: cursed energy wasn't just something to be wielded. It was a part of him, an extension of his very being.

Taking a deep breath, he sat down again, closing his eyes. This time, instead of forcing the energy to obey, he let it flow through him naturally. He relaxed his grip on it, letting it pulse and breathe in sync with his emotions. The anger was still there, simmering beneath the surface, but he didn't try to push it to the forefront. Instead, he let it settle, becoming a background hum rather than a roaring flame.

He opened his eyes, focusing on the pieces of the shattered bottle on the floor. Slowly, carefully, he raised his hand, summoning the cursed energy. It flowed through him more smoothly this time, responding to his intent rather than his rage.

Without a word, he sent the energy outward in a single, controlled slash.

CRACK.

This time, one of the larger pieces of glass split cleanly in two. No explosion, no uncontrolled burst of power. Just a clean, precise cut.

He stared at the glass for a long moment, hardly daring to believe it. That was it. Dismantle. He had finally done it.

A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. It wasn't perfect, not yet. But it was progress. Real progress.

For the next several days, he focused entirely on mastering Dismantle. He tested it on anything he could find—wood, metal, brick. Each time, he improved, learning how to control the cursed energy with more finesse. Cleave had always been raw, brutal, cutting through living beings with lethal precision. But Dismantle was different. It required him to think, to calculate. It wasn't about overpowering his target—it was about understanding the durability of the object and applying just enough force to cut through it cleanly.

As the days passed, he began to notice something else. The more he used Dismantle, the more his understanding of cursed energy deepened. He could feel the energy becoming more responsive, more flexible. It was no longer just a tool of destruction—it was becoming something he could shape, something he could manipulate with greater nuance.

But with that understanding came new questions.

If Dismantle was a technique that cut through non-living objects, and Cleave was a technique that targeted living beings, then what else was possible? He had felt other abilities lurking beneath the surface of his cursed energy—techniques he hadn't yet unlocked. What were they? How far could he push this power?

Sitting on the floor of his apartment, he stared at his hands, watching as the faint glow of cursed energy flickered around his fingertips. The tattoos on his arms pulsed in time with his heartbeat, a constant reminder of the power that lived inside him.

"There's more," he muttered, his mind racing with possibilities. "There's so much more I haven't tapped into."

His thoughts drifted back to the first time he had used Cleave, back when his hatred for the heroes had boiled over, unlocking the cursed energy within him. That raw, unbridled rage had given birth to the power, but now he understood that it was only the beginning. He had barely scratched the surface of what cursed energy was capable of.

He needed to push further. He needed to unlock the full potential of this power.

But how?

That was the question that haunted him. He had managed to unlock Dismantle, but there were other techniques, other abilities tied to cursed energy that he hadn't yet discovered. He could feel them, lurking just out of reach, waiting for him to call upon them.

It wasn't just about learning the techniques, though. It was about understanding the very nature of cursed energy itself. He had named it, yes, but he still didn't fully grasp what it was or where it came from. Why had he been chosen to wield it? Was it tied to his emotions alone, or was there something deeper at play?

The answers eluded him, but one thing was clear: he couldn't stop now. He had unlocked Dismantle, but there was more. Much more.

And he was going to find it.