Compared to a week ago, Daredevil was now so emaciated he was barely recognizable, the half of his face exposed outside his mask gaunt and severely dehydrated.
He sat on the pew with his head bowed, whispering words of confession to God. Even as his lips cracked and bled, he never stopped for a single moment.
The blood that had stained his suit a week ago from killing Hydra agents had long since dried, forming crusts on his armor. Blended with the stench of sweat, it produced a foul odor.
Batman and Captain America were hardly the type to feel disgust toward Daredevil for such a smell. Instead, as they exchanged a glance, both read the same signal in each other's eyes:
We can't let Daredevil go on like this. It will destroy him.
The question was, how should they handle Daredevil's situation? Knock him out by force, pour food down his throat, and drag him out of the Catholic church?
Even someone like Captain America, who didn't know Daredevil particularly well, knew that if they did that, Daredevil would likely view them as enemies the moment he woke up.
Yet Cap couldn't just stay in the church with Daredevil to continue confessing, either. As a World War II veteran, Captain America had killed plenty of Hydra agents and Nazis on the battlefield, and he bore no regret for taking those lives.
Still, Captain America respected Daredevil's faith, and he couldn't bring himself to forcibly intervene.
"Even if you hadn't asked where Daredevil went, I would have brought you here to figure out how to deal with this," Captain America whispered to Batman.
He refrained from raising his voice, careful not to interrupt Daredevil's confession.
Batman gave Captain America a look and raised an index finger, signaling for silence.
Captain America couldn't hear it, but Batman could faintly make out the extremely quiet confession leaving Daredevil's lips.
"Lord, Your mercy is greater than all sins. Yet, Lord, even if You were to forgive me... forgive me, I do not intend to ask for forgiveness. Because asking for forgiveness means admitting that I was wrong back then."
What Daredevil was saying sounded nothing like a standard prayer of confession. Instead, it was filled with words that were remarkably rebellious for a believer like him.
"I have recited the Bible a hundred times here. But that is merely my lips moving. My soul will not change."
"I do not regret killing those Hydra agents. I know that showing mercy to them is coldheartedness toward the innocent. I cannot do that. Perhaps this is my curse."
"When I die, I will neither enter Heaven nor descend to Hell. I will simply be trapped in the middle, frozen in place, just as I have sat here these past five days."
"Lord, I have finished my confession. My sin is this: I have killed, and I will kill again next time."
"And after killing them, I will still come here to You to confess... to confess my sins."
As these final words fell, Batman saw Daredevil press both hands against the wooden surface in front of him. The pew beneath him let out a creak as he attempted to stand, but prolonged sitting had left his limbs completely numb. This time, he failed to stand up and nearly collapsed to the floor.
Batman and Captain America stepped forward at the same time, reaching out one after the other to support Daredevil.
Held up by the two of them, Daredevil uttered a single word through trembling lips: "Water..."
Captain America and Batman exchanged a glance. Cap crouched down to pick up the food and water he had brought earlier, opening them and holding them to Daredevil's lips.
Daredevil didn't stand on ceremony. After taking a few gulps of water, he took the food—mostly bread—and swallowed it down in huge bites.
Throughout this process, Captain America glanced at Batman. Seeing Batman give a subtle shake of his head, Cap didn't ask any questions.
In fact, even after half an hour had passed and they had sent Daredevil off, no further words were exchanged among the three of them.
Walking among the farmland beside the Catholic church, Batman and Captain America strolled side by side before Cap finally broke the silence:
"Earlier, I could faintly hear Daredevil's confession, but I couldn't make out the words clearly. Did you catch them?"
"Mm," Batman said. "There's no need to worry about Daredevil. He is stronger than either of us imagined. He knows what he should and shouldn't do."
"I hope it's as you say," Captain America sighed.
Walking and pausing along the way, the two crossed the farmland and arrived at a cemetery less than two kilometers from the Catholic church.
Batman stood before Martin Li's grave and asked Captain America:
"When Daredevil, Iron Fist Danny, and Jessica Jones quit the Avengers, did they say anything?"
"They said that rather than being Avengers standing in the spotlight, facing powerful entities like Frost Giants and the evil god Loki, they'd prefer to return to Hell's Kitchen to fight gangsters and drug dealers," Captain America said.
"I respect their decision, so I didn't stop or try to keep them."
Batman reached out and touched Martin Li's tombstone. This headstone had been erected by the people who had once received help from the philanthropist; initially, Batman had simply dug a rough hole to bury him.
"Cap, you are even more perfect than I imagined," Batman said.
Captain America chuckled softly:
"That sounds like retaliation for what I said about you earlier... Besides, there is no perfect person in this world, and I am no exception."
When the two boarded the Batwing and returned to the temporary Avengers headquarters, a party was actually underway inside.
Batman had no doubt that the initiator of this party was Iron Man, Tony Stark.
The sofas in the original manor hall had been moved aside to create a dance floor, where glamorous women were swaying their bodies to the music.
Roast meats, beer, fruit, and champagne crammed a long table to overflowing, while servants carrying platters wove among the Avengers, kept busy and bustling.
The moment Batman and Captain America stepped through the manor doors, their ears were instantly bombarded by the loud, chaotic noise inside. One who had been asleep for over seventy years, and another who only attended such gatherings when he took off his mask, both frowned simultaneously.
"Where are Tony and Thor?" Captain America asked, catching Falcon, Sam Wilson, as he passed by holding a glass of champagne.
"Cap?" Falcon was a superhero wearing a red suit with white accents and a pair of feathered wings behind his back, looking quite similar to the former Vulture. "They're over there."
Falcon pointed in a direction.
Captain America nodded. Turning around to look for Batman, he saw that the guy had already stepped ahead of him, walking toward Iron Man and the others.
"Whosoever be worthy, if they can lift it, shall possess the power of Thor," Hawkeye, Clint Barton, sat in a chair, pointing at Mjolnir—Thor's hammer resting on the table—as he joked. "If I lift it, does that mean I get to be the God of Thunder, too?"
These were the exact words Batman heard as he approached the group.
"Indeed. Whosoever among you may try," Thor, the God of Thunder, said with extraordinary generosity.
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