Chapter 2823

Nyarlathotep had a fishbone stuck in his throat.

This sounds absurd and very impolite, especially when this Nyarlathotep is the main body.

But if there were a hospital for Outer Gods in the Cthulhu mythos system, they could only explain this symptom as being stuck by a fishbone.

This fishbone is Schiller.

Theoretically, no one can contact the entity of an Outer God. They might not have an entity at all. Using the theory of American comics, each of them is an endless universe. This definition is even more abstract than things like OAA, similar to how you can't smash into a mathematical formula.

But then again, a mathematical formula is a formula in mathematics, but if you use this mathematical formula to build something, then this thing has an entity, and you can't say it's not a mathematical formula.

Nyarlathotep's situation is roughly like this. If he doesn't enter the American comic universe, he is forever indescribable. But the DC universe doesn't run according to this set of rules. All the gods here have a certain entity, so they can see the famous scene of gods using planets to smash each other.

So if Nyarlathotep wants to exist here, he has to get himself an entity. Lu Xun once said that as long as you have a throat, you will always have a day when you are stuck by a fishbone.

Nyarlathotep converted his file format to enter DC, so of course he had an entity like the abstract gods here. He had always been staying under the Wayne Hotel.

But his script absolutely didn't have the segment of Schiller falling on him.

As the saying goes, every fun-seeker is a fisherman, but not every DYD loves to eat fish. Many people like the process of fishing, and Nyarlathotep is no exception.

He doesn't have the habit of eating fish, basically doesn't kill people actively, let alone engage in any large-scale slaughter. At most, he accidentally plays people to death, similar to not walking the fish well when fishing, letting the fish bump itself to death.

Today can be considered a strange story through the ages. A fish flew directly into his mouth, but this giant mouth capable of devouring everything didn't chew up such a small fishbone, letting it get stuck in his throat.

When Nyarlathotep discovered that he couldn't pull this fishbone out, he knew things were a bit troublesome.

But when he discovered that after being stuck by the fishbone, he was also stuck by this cave, this event became even more bizarre.

Then he discovered that it didn't seem like he was stuck, but Schiller was stuck. Although he didn't know where this giant cave with a diameter of several thousand meters stuck Schiller, the current situation was similar to a fishbone piercing through the throat, pinning a person to the wall.

Nyarlathotep was pinned by this fishbone.

Estimating that the time was about right, Greed brought the Gray Mist.

How the bishop's body came to be, that's how they came to be. Although the hotel had problems, the universe wasn't blocked, so coming in wasn't a difficult matter.

Then what did the two of them come for?

The answer is also very simple: Schiller might be unscrupulous, but he is definitely not a quack.

Although a psychologist doesn't pull fishbones, he can comfort you when you are stuck by a fishbone, and charge by the hour. Regardless of the cost, the comfort effect is definitely in place.

Schiller and the Gray Mist spread a picnic blanket on the edge of the cliff, set up a pile of potato chips, cheese, and fruit. Schiller was in a good mood, and specially poured a cup of crazy wine for each, and the two drank on the edge of the cliff.

Nyarlathotep was of course trying various ways to pull out the fishbone underneath, but in fact, if he had a way, he would have pulled it out long ago. Now he is just posing here, which is just adding to the joke.

Not long after, a pitch-black figure came up.

"What exactly is going on?" Nyarlathotep's avatar, the Haunter of the Dark, asked.

"Don't misunderstand, this isn't your problem, someone else is unlucky," Schiller said. "If it were in a zombie copy, he would definitely run into a tyrant as soon as he went out. If it were in a shipwreck copy, he would step into the mouth of a great white shark as soon as he went out."

"So in your copy, what is more unlucky than falling directly on you? That is, of course, not only falling on you, but also getting stuck with you. If you can't overcome his bad luck, it's best to choose to accept it."

Nyarlathotep was speechless for a while, and didn't know if he couldn't accept such an absurd statement.

But he is worthy of being an Outer God. He has seen too many absurd things in this world, so he had to say, "Can I understand it as him carrying a kind of curse? A curse that even I cannot lift?"

"This is not a curse," Schiller said. "This is a great blessing, something others can't ask for even if they want to. Isn't this pinned here for you?"

"What do you want?" Nyarlathotep seemed more familiar with the process than Schiller, or rather, he was the one closest to human cognition among the Outer Gods, besides being evil, he was also very cunning. If he lost a move, he would immediately negotiate terms to fight for advantages for himself.

"No rush," Schiller said.

The Gray Mist ate and drank enough, and soon floated out. I don't know what he went to do, but anyway, not long after, everyone was here.

Cobblepot, Jerome, Jeremiah, Gordon, and Peter, who was holding a basin of hallucinogenic liquid in a daze.

The Gray Mist signaled them to put the metal on the ground. Soon, the five metals were arranged, a light flashed, and a passage was opened.

A figure appeared in the dark passage.

Seeing this person walk over, Schiller greeted him very enthusiastically, hooked his shoulders and said, "Eh, Laughing, didn't you say you were in seclusion to write? Why come here?"

"It's not that I'm saying you, writing behind closed doors won't work. I recently encountered a good script. The person who wrote this script has a great background, but he is a famous screenwriter in the universe. In our line of work, talent is important, but connections are also indispensable. If you don't know a great director, no matter how good the script you write is, it won't be filmed well!"

"Come, come, let me introduce you. This one in the pit is called Nyarlathotep. You might have heard Barbatos mention him. This one is known as the Thousand-Faced God, the Lord of Cosmic Conspiracies. It is said that there is no one he can't deceive, and no conspiracy he can't direct."

"The 'Thousand-Faced God' and 'The Haunter of the Dark' he wrote are popular throughout the universe. Today, he has directed another big show. I observed the whole process, and it was quite wonderful. Maybe it can compete with your adapted 'Star Core Rescue'."

"Sigh, by the way, the release dates of these two films happen to collide. This is a rare fate. I'll have a drink with you two!"

Laughing also walked to the edge of the cliff half-pushed. He also wanted to see what kind of background this guy who dared to call himself the Lord of Cosmic Conspiracies had.

As a result, as soon as he got close to the cliff, he was kicked down by Schiller.

The moment Laughing touched Nyarlathotep's main body, Nyarlathotep exploded directly.

No exaggeration, it just exploded on the spot. All the masks scattered like flowers, spraying directly out of that huge cave, and even sprayed the entire hotel above into the sky.

Everyone standing on the edge of the cliff looked at the big hole above their heads in a daze. What was even more outrageous was that this giant torrent broke through the thick dark clouds, and a beam of light shone on the dark city.

Peter looked at the mask rain that suddenly started, took two steps back, stood in front of Schiller, and muttered to himself, "No wonder..."

"What's wrong?"

"Didn't you look at the photos I sent you?"

Schiller really didn't look, because their accounts were not interoperable. At this time, the Gray Mist went down and fished out Soship, and Soship forwarded the information to Schiller.

Only then did Schiller see that the place where Peter took the photos was a park not far from the hotel, and the Cat Getan in his photos was sunny. What was even more outrageous was that a huge statue was placed in the center of the park square. The statue depicted neither Batman nor the Owl, but an aggregate of a thousand masks.

Under the sculpture was written "The Great Thousand-Faced and Ten-Thousand-Form God—The Great Savior of Cat Getan, our Lord whom we always respect and love".

"What's the situation??!!!!"

Another voice came from under the cave. Schiller lowered his head and looked. Isn't this Little Bruce? No wonder he had to send a distress signal. Being caught directly by Nyarlathotep's main body, is that okay?

Little Bruce took a step out, but shrank back. He didn't dare to stand in the sunlight, and even stretched out a tentacle to poke it, then retracted it with a 'whoosh'.

The Gray Mist flew out with a few people. He discovered that because this torrent sprayed too high before, all the masks were falling down with a 'clatter', as if a rain of masks had fallen.

What was even more bizarre was that all the buildings touched by the masks faded a layer of black-gray, and the buildings that had been eroded by the power of darkness for years restored their original appearance. It seems that this secondary dark power is still not as good as Nyarlathotep's main body.

Where the masks were, the sky turned blue, the water turned clear, the trees stood tall, the flowers were bright, and even the lawn was no longer bald.

Even Gothamites began to pray.

"Now you can't show off the power of an evil god," Jerome sneered at Little Bruce. "I'm preparing to rebuild the Cat Getan Cathedral and sculpt a statue for my Lord Nyarlathotep. Are you going?"

Little Bruce's face was extremely ugly.

Jerome left laughing wildly.

"Don't listen to him, he's just a lunatic," Jeremiah approached Little Bruce and said. "I also hate this sunlight. Let's go back together."

Little Bruce walked away in disgust.

In Schiller's Tower of Thought, Pride and Superego stood in front of the railing of the patio. Pride asked, "Tell me, did he go find that person again?"

"I'm afraid so. Greed is the kind of person who owes him a favor, and he won't stop until he fleeces the other party bald."

"In that case, we didn't lose out at the beginning." Pride nodded and said.

"Are you serious?" Superego looked at Pride and said, "Fine, I knew you were biased toward him, but he caused us to deal with those agents for several years, and he also deleted memories. This is the most intolerable thing."

"It's all in the past," Pride said. "How do you think he will fleece Nyarlathotep?"

"Isn't it enough that he caused him to directly disintegrate?"

Pride shook his head, smiled, and said, "You said it yourself, he is the kind of person who won't stop until he fleeces others bald."

As soon as the words fell, the gate of the high tower was opened, and Schiller walked in with the black manager, whose face was ugly.

"From now on, you are the Ambassador of Nyarlathotep to Schiller. Although you are known as the Thousand-Faced God, I am not bad either. Come, come, come, first visit the headquarters..."

"This is the head office. Now various branches are being built outside. You can take a look at the categories of subsidiaries first, and then decide which one to join..."

"Oh, right, there is also a peer of yours here. You are known as the Thousand-Faced God, and that one over there is known as the Moon-Faced God. Come, Khonshu, meet your new colleague..."

Superego upstairs covered his face and said, "I said he has a collection habit for characters with a thousand faces and ten thousand forms..."

"I advocate the free development of hobbies," Pride said.

"But you can't bring everything into the high tower!" Superego raised his tone, and then he said as if he suddenly remembered something, "How did I forget, you also have a Batman collection habit!"

"I don't," Pride turned and walked toward the room.

"Then don't let them send letters here."

"Then you wait for them to come and say it in person."

Superego sighed long and whispered, "When can I become a real empty-nester?"