Chapter 1921: U: Beyond the Great Event (47)

Bat-Bane nodded slightly, turning his eyeballs upward to look at Schiller, causing fine lines to form above his brow bone. Schiller wrote down four words, circled them, and like writing a mind map, drew other branches below.

"I don't go to the Abyss often, so I don't know much about them, but since they are spirits, they will definitely appear in the image they like the most."

Under the four names, Schiller wrote down several words representing their attire. Bat-Bane leaned over and saw that under the first one, Hunting, was written "Black Shirt."

"He often attends various celebrity banquets, following his prey through dance floors, corridors, and bathroom stalls. Apart from alcohol and lipstick marks, there is also blood stuck to his clothes, and black is the color that makes dirt the least visible."

Schiller's low voice echoed in the room. Bat-Bane felt a chill climbing up his back, and he began to understand those horror movie protagonists who encountered ghosts.

Then he saw Schiller write "White Shirt" under the word Art and explain it as follows.

"If a pitch-black background can swallow all colors, then white is to make the most vivid colors appear. When he creates on a soft, hot material, the marks left on the white shirt also become part of the work. That is a souvenir worth keeping."

When Schiller's gaze looked at the last two names, his pen tip paused, and then he wrote "Gray Scarf" under Gluttony.

"He is not an elegant diner, usually binge eating and gluttonous, because massive eating can restore physical strength and replenish energy extremely quickly, making sufficient preparations for everything that follows. He often carries a gray napkin at a minimum to ensure that soup doesn't drip on his clothes."

When it came to the last one, Abuse, Schiller's pen tip paused for an exceptionally long time. He seemed to recall something, but finally wrote "Red Top."

"He is very happy to wear all kinds of red clothes, which reminds him of those fish that keep jumping because they have lost their skin and are exposed to the air."

The introduction to Abuse was the shortest, but Schiller's tone and some of the content he hinted at made Bat-Bane shudder.

He looked down at the four names on the paper again, lightly licked his somewhat dry lips, and said, "Anything else? What are their characteristics and what are their weaknesses?"

Schiller shook his head gently and said, "I already said, I don't go to the Abyss often, so I don't know much about them. I only know one thing, and that is that we should try our best not to stimulate them, otherwise you can experience the treatment of a real horror movie protagonist."

Bat-Bane's intuition as Batman was reminding him that what Schiller said was true, because the cold light belonging to the glass shard had been about one centimeter from his eyeball, and that moment had felt as long as a century.

"As for their weaknesses, actually I can only guess." Schiller first pointed at Hunting and said, "Hunting only hunts one prey at a time. Whoever he targets, he will repeatedly appear in front of them until he finds an opportunity to strike."

Bat-Bane suddenly realized that Schiller's description of these pathological personality traits had revealed some very dark truths, so he instinctively said, "From the dance floor to the corridor, and then to the bathroom stall?"

At this moment, Bat-Bane saw his field of vision shaking, his eyes filled with hazy light. When the light dissipated, the crowd on the dance floor scattered like stars, and his field of vision locked onto one person.

In the shaking field of vision, that person's back always appeared, leaving the dance floor, greeting people around, taking a wine glass from a waiter, standing in place and chatting with acquaintances, until turning and walking toward the corridor.

Passing through the long corridor, the light became increasingly dim, and the figure disappeared into the bathroom stall. The ceiling light flashed, and Schiller's young face, wearing a black shirt, was reflected in the mirror.

Bat-Bane woke up with a start. He finally discovered that Schiller was not describing concepts, but the past.

So the perspective continued.

Bat-Bane saw a huge wall painting in his field of vision. Turning his head again, this seemed to be an art studio set up in a huge warehouse, and this huge wall painting depicted "The Education of Cupid" by the French painter François Boucher.

Before Bat-Bane could think about what metaphors this painting had, he saw a huge fish among the messy easels, with a knife stuck in its belly, but the blood foam constantly bubbling from the fish gills showed it was still alive.

Scraping off scales, dissecting the abdominal cavity, groping for muscles and bones, blood constantly spraying out, staining all the way up the cuffs, and the front of the shirt also left blood spots like flowers.

A violent hunger came, and the light in the field of vision began to shake constantly.

The sharp siren sound was getting closer and closer but also further and further away. Shouts, curses, and gunshots were endless.

Bat-Bane discovered that his field of vision began to gradually withdraw from this body, and then he saw the huge warehouse covered in blood, and the fish that had lost its scales and skin jumping in the distance.

The police officers rolled in like beans, their arms holding guns circling into a ring, like a huge flower. In the center of the flower, Schiller, covered in bright red, lay on the ground with his limbs spread, his young face filled with only the joy of a newborn.

Bat-Bane woke up with a start, and his look when looking at Schiller was completely different. Schiller, unaware, was still lowering his head and recounting the possible weaknesses of several pathological personality traits.

Bat-Bane couldn't listen anymore.

He took a deep breath, stood up, and turned to look at the other door of the office, which led to the bathroom.

He didn't say anything to Schiller, who had looked up, but walked straight toward the bathroom. After walking in, he didn't go into the toilet stall but suppressed his voice as much as possible, retched twice, and turned on the faucet to splash his face.

Bat-Bane straightened up, wiped his face in the mirror, and combed his stray hair that had been wetted by water backward.

The ceiling light flashed.

The image of Bat-Bane in the mirror changed abruptly. He saw Schiller again, but it wasn't that young face.

He had white temples, wasn't wearing glasses, and those gray eyes were very unfocused, looking at Bat-Bane with a smile.

Bat-Bane blinked hard, and he disappeared again.

Bat-Bane was about to open his mouth to ask, but the faucet suddenly moved.

With a "Creak," the faucet switch was turned on, water flowed out with a splash, masking the sound of speech, and that Schiller appeared in the mirror again.

This time Bat-Bane saw clearly. He was wearing a dark blue suit, and the dark orange tie was tied in a double Windsor knot, looking solemn and gorgeous.

"Everything you see is what actually happened."

His voice seemed to ring in Bat-Bane's ear, making him unable to help turning his head, but there was nothing there.

"Who exactly are you?"

"Who exactly is Schiller?"

Bat-Bane didn't expect him to ask back like this, and he didn't have the answer to this question at all, but he had just seen it, at least a part of it.

So the answer was on the tip of his tongue, but he still lowered his head, shook his head, and said, "You can't create hallucinations for me."

"You know that wasn't a hallucination."

Bat-Bane leaned on the washbasin again, gasping for breath. What he saw, heard, and touched in that kind of vision was too real.

The bright banquet light, the noisy human voices, the wheezing and weak struggle of the prey after being injured, and the warmth of the blood...

"Why?" Bat-Bane asked somewhat angrily, "Do you just enjoy all of this?!"

"They are my enemies, but I do enjoy all of this."

Bat-Bane slowly closed his eyes. His hands pressed on the washbasin began to tremble. For him, this was the real ghost story—there is a group of people in this world who feel heartfelt enjoyment and joy from harming their own kind. They are natural criminals, born murderers.

"Who exactly is Schiller?"

The ceiling light flashed a few more times, and that low voice appeared in Bat-Bane's ear again.

The light flashed again, and that exceptionally tall figure disappeared. Bat-Bane's face appeared in the mirror.

He was wearing a hospital gown, forming a sharp contrast with that gorgeous and dignified suit. His eyes, sunken in their sockets, looked exceptionally gloomy under the illumination of the ceiling light.

"Who exactly is Schiller?" he muttered to himself.

This time, he saw the figure of Schiller in the gorgeous suit appear behind him in the mirror.

Schiller reached out a hand and placed it on his shoulder. Although Bat-Bane didn't feel any touch, he felt an indescribable weight that almost crushed him.

"Answer me, Batman, who exactly is Schiller?"

"He is..." Bat-Bane's gaze began to flash with the light above his head. He gasped in a low voice, and finally, only a voice that sank to the bottom of the valley echoed in the small room.

"Schiller is... a murderer."

Batman and Seeing Natasha were cleaning the blood on Seeing Natasha's arm in the bathroom. Seeing Natasha stared at the door nervously and said, "Hurry up, he might come over soon."

She looked down at the wound on her arm. It was a few minutes ago, when they had just come up from the stairwell, that she was scratched when the window at the end of the corridor exploded.

At that time, they hadn't realized the severity of the problem, only thinking it was ghosts. Until they saw Schiller's shadow in the glass again, and at the same time, the blood Seeing Natasha had shed disappeared.

What was even more terrifying was that the wound, which hadn't been deep, was becoming deeper and deeper, and more and more blood was flowing, but not a single drop fell to the ground; it all disappeared into thin air.

The clotting function of the platelets seemed to have suddenly stopped working. There was no sign of the blood clotting at all; it just kept flowing out and then disappeared into the air.

Until Seeing Natasha saw on the ward window in the corridor that a Schiller wearing a gray scarf around his neck was constantly tearing open the wound on Seeing Natasha's arm with his hand, and all the blood disappeared at his fingertips.

Batman and Seeing Natasha then realized that Schiller wasn't wandering aimlessly. They had just been lucky before, so they hadn't run into the Schiller that would target them.

The two ran wildly all the way, finally finding bandages for dressing in the preparation room ahead. The two ran all the way into the bathroom before shaking off the Schiller that was following them. At this moment, they were preparing to dress the wound.

Just as Batman finished cleaning the wound and was about to tie the bandage, the light above their heads suddenly flashed twice.

A figure appeared in the mirror of the washbasin.

Seeing Natasha widened her eyes, because she was very familiar with this figure. The Schiller in the mirror was wearing a turtleneck sweater, with his half-long hair tied behind his head, staring at Seeing Natasha with a half-smile. ===== CHAPTER 1922 =====