The man walked through the streets of Gotham with an annoyed look on his face.
He had just come from a bar.
And he had just failed again.
He exhaled slowly through his nose, irritation rising inside him.
He had managed to get a woman, some random stranger he met there, to agree to talk with him.
That part had been easy.
A few words, a bit of charm, the right tone.
People in Gotham were desperate for distraction.
For an escape from the grim reality.
Then came the drinks.
He had made sure of that.
Glass after glass, carefully paced.
Not rushed, not forced.
Just enough encouragement, a few jokes, a few nudges.
Before long, she was laughing too loudly, leaning too much, her thoughts clearly slipping.
Exactly where he needed her.
The plan itself had been simple.
Make her drunk enough.
Get her to establish the contract in that state.
And then?
Everything would fall into place.
He would have his unrestrained power.
And of course, he would take care of her to the best of his ability.
He wasn’t unreasonable.
Food, shelter, comfort, and everything she may desire.
In return, she would continue to have episodes of being absent minded master for the rest of her life.
It was a fair trade, complete comfort and desire fulfillment in return of losing mind from time to time.
He smiled at the thought back then, but the smile didn’t last long.
That petty bastard interfered again.
A new rule etched itself painfully in his head out of nowhere.
‘You can’t drug your master or affect their minds in anyway intentionally for your benefit.’ He clenched his teeth.
“Of course,” he muttered under his breath.
“Right when I was about to win my freedom ticket.” He shoved his hands deeper into his pockets as he continued walking, eyes scanning the street without really seeing it.
His mind worked through possibilities, discarding them just as quickly.
He needed a master.
That was non-negotiable.
But every attempt to secure one on his own terms kept getting blocked.
He murmured quietly, “Is there no way to escape this slavery bullshit?” The question irritated him.
Then he noticed him.
A small figure near the edge of the street.
He slowed.
A little boy.
No more than three or four years old.
Walking aimlessly, his head turning as if he was searching for something or someone.
No adults nearby.
No one is paying attention.
Lost and all alone.
He stopped completely and stared at the boy.
At first, it was just observation.
Then his gaze sharpened as he thought [Why should I find a master when I can groom one?] He remained still, watching him as the idea began to take shape.
It made sense.
More than anything else he had tried.
Take him in and raise him.
Shape his understanding of the world, through him.
This way, he would have a master that trusts him, listen to every word he says.
He can become the perfect master.
A permanent solution.
His lips curved faintly.
“Yes,” he said under his breath.
“That will definitely work.” So he approached him and lowered himself to his level, careful not to appear threatening.
“Hello there,” he said, voice softened.
The boy immediately stepped back in fear Instinctively.
He adjusted his tone, keeping it calm.
“Don’t be afraid.
I’m a good uncle.” He glanced around briefly, then back at him.
“Where is your mother or father?” The boy didn’t answer.
Just stared at him with wide, uncertain eyes.
He leaned in, keeping his expression gentle.
“I can help you find them,” he said.
“If you agree to be my master.
You only need to say yes.” The boy blinked.
Confused.
Of course he was.
He kept his voice patient.
“Say yes, and I will find your family.
Go on.
I am your best friend from now on.” he hesitated.
Stepped back again.
His voice, when it came, was small and unsure.
“yes.” For a brief moment, the man expected success.
Instead, he got pain.
It struck instantly.
He dropped to the ground as if something had slammed into him from above, his body curling as a violent, splitting agony tore through his head.
“Agh…!” His hands clutched at his skull, fingers digging in as if he could physically hold it together.
A new rule etched itself in his mind.
‘You can’t establish contracts with children.
The minimum age is fifteen.’ The boy didn’t stay.
He turned and ran, small footsteps echoing rapidly as he disappeared down the street.
He barely noticed.
“Fuck!” he spat, voice strained.
“I was literally helping a child!” The pain surged again.
He cut himself off, teeth clenching as he endured it in silence this time, realizing too late that even his words could provoke a response.
It lingered for a few moments.
Then slowly faded.
He remained on the ground for a moment longer, breathing steadying, thoughts recalibrating.
Then he pushed himself up.
Slowly.
Carefully.
“Okay,” he said, voice lower now, more controlled.
A brief pause.
“Got it… No interaction with children, even if I have good intentions.” The man resumed walking through Gotham’s streets, his earlier irritation settling into a quiet thought.
He still hasn’t given up on finding any form of freedom in this world.
Then he saw him.
An elderly man, thin, slightly hunched, carrying multiple heavy plastic bags in both hands.
The weight dragged at his arms, his steps uneven as he struggled to keep moving forward.
The man narrowed his eyes.
He saw a new opportunity.
He changed direction immediately, closing the distance with measured steps before speaking in a calm, approachable tone.
“Hello, old sir.
I see you are struggling with those.
Would you like me to help you?” The elderly man stiffened at the sudden approach, his grip tightening on the bags.
His eyes moved quickly over the stranger, alert and cautious.
This was Gotham.
People did not simply walk up and offer help without reason.
The man maintained a polite smile.
“My name is Sebastian,” he added smoothly.
“I just arrived in Gotham today.” The old man studied him more carefully now.
The clean suit, the composed posture, the calm expression, none of it matched what he was used to seeing around here.
There was a certain unfamiliarity to him.
Like someone who didn’t belong.
Sebastian’s smile softened.
“I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable with my offer.” The old man hesitated for a moment longer, then slowly nodded.
“Thank you, young man.
It is rare to see someone helping around here.” Sebastian took the bags from him with ease.
“Is that so?” he said lightly.
“I heard Gotham was a dark place, but honestly, I never imagined it to be like this.
Metropolis is too good compared to it, no offense.” The old man gave a small, tired smile as they began walking side by side.
“None taken.
It is sad to see the state of everything here.
But just as there are bad people… there are good ones too.
Like you.” Sebastian let out a short laugh.
“I’m sure of that.
Tell me, is the crime really as rampant as people say?
I’ve been here for hours and haven’t heard a single gunshot.
The rumors outside paint this place as a hell where guns never stop firing.” The old man shook his head.
“Are the rumors really that bad?” he said.
“Well… yes, we have a high crime rate.
But nothing like what you described.” Sebastian nodded.
“Glad to hear that.
I’m here for work, and I admit I was a little worried.” They walked in silence for a moment before Sebastian spoke again, his tone casual.
“If you don’t mind me asking… why are you carrying these heavy bags yourself?
Don’t you have someone living with you who can help?” The old man’s expression dimmed.
He shook his head.
“I live alone.” Sebastian was quiet for a brief moment, as if considering that.
Then he spoke.
“Since I don’t have anything better to do today… what if I work for you?” he said.
“I can help you with anything you need.” The old man looked at him, surprised.
“You are already doing enough by walking me back home.” Sebastian shook his head lightly.
“I was just wandering the streets aimlessly,” he said.
“And I think it is our duty to help senior citizens.
I’m not the best person around, but I can help with cleaning, errands, anything for a day.
You just need to say yes.” He smiled faintly.
“And you can tell me stories about Gotham.
Places I should avoid.
That way, you don’t feel indebted.” The old man stared at him for a moment.
Then he laughed softly.
“You are a good man.
If more people were like you, the world would be a far better place.” Sebastian tilted his head.
“Is that a yes I’m hearing?” “yes,” the old man said.
Purple light flared instantly.
It wrapped around the old man’s hand before settling into a mark etched into his skin.
The old man froze, staring at it in confusion.
Sebastian smiled.
The next moment, the world shifted around the old man.
The old man found himself standing inside his own home.
Clean.
Spotless.
Everything in place, every surface polished, every object arranged with precision.
The air itself felt lighter.
Sebastian stood beside him.
“I hope you liked my work.” The old man turned to him slowly.
“how?” “Magic,” Sebastian replied simply.
The moment the contract formed, he had used his ability to grant himself exactly what he needed.
Mind-reading, to read the old man’s mind.
Super speed, to execute all tasks in the blink of an eye.
Fire manipulation, to light the stove without tools.
Water control, to clean efficiently without effort.
And there were few others.
Each ability he granted himself was justified by the task he performed.
All within the damn rules.
In this moment, even without relying directly on raw reality warping, he was among the most powerful beings in the world.
It worked perfectly.
Which is exactly why everything disappeared.
Sebastian found himself standing in an empty void.
Facing the god again.
“I punished you just a few hours ago,” the entity said, voice cold and absolute.
“Since then, I have had to add additional rules every so little, rules that anyone would consider obvious.” The void seemed to tighten.
“I cannot believe I had to explicitly state that: you cannot make contracts with the mentally challenged, elderly with Alzheimer’s, or toddlers.” Sebastian’s expression hardened.
“You were strict over underwear,” he replied sharply.
“I figured the rules were about strictness, not meaning.
And what did I do this time?
I helped the old man to the best of my ability.” “You abused your power,” the god responded immediately.
“You granted yourself abilities you did not need.
You could have completed those tasks without them.
There was no constraint on time, nor on method.” A pause.
“You also read his mind to justify yourself” Sebastian’s jaw tightened.
“So what now?” he asked, anger clear in his voice.
“Another rule?” The answer came instantly “Yes.
First, I will take those powers from you.” He felt it happen.
Everything he had granted himself, gone.
“And from now on, you cannot grant yourself abilities for something you do not need.
You are a fated slave, you are to serve others not yourself.” The void pressed in further.
“And an additional rule.” A brief silence.
“You are not allowed to trick or lie to goodhearted masters in any way to make them allow you to use your power for your benefit.
And you can’t explicitly or implicitly tell others about reality warping.” Sebastian was angry at this as he said “So this is how you want to play it.
Do you have nothing else to do besides coming after me?
You are in the wrong to begin with.” What followed was Sebastian screaming in agony.