Chapter 3740: Crisis in the Dark City (XIV)

"He doesn't look right," Owlman said, frowning as he stared at the screen. "To be precise, he hasn't been right from the start. At first, he was somewhat like the Schiller I once encountered, but then he became increasingly off. What exactly is going on?"

"You've encountered him?" The Batman Who Laughs seemed quite interested in this.

"Yes, in a certain instance. I met two Schillers; they must have been counterparts from different universes. One had a very aggressive style, while the other was always plotting in the shadows. I thought this Schiller today would be the aggressive one. He did seem like it at first, but later things felt wrong. Now, he looks even less like either of them."

"Regardless, he cannot escape the maze," a hollow voice echoed from the empty seat. "He will be trapped in my city forever. Either he accepts his failure and leaves, like the previous Batman, or he perishes alongside the ghosts of this city."

"Don't be so confident," Owlman said. "The previous Batman was just strong, but this guy is bizarre; it's really hard to pin down his methods. We'd better prepare for the worst."

"The worst-case scenario is just going down there and fighting him, isn't it?" The Batman Who Laughs curled his lip. "Hardly anyone has been able to break through the Ghost City's blockade since the plan began. You haven't had a chance to act yet. If this guy really does make it out, we can have some fun with him."

"I have a premonition," said a thin, pale Batman sitting in a corner, dressed in dark mage robes. "This matter isn't that simple. It won't end quickly."

Schiller and Batman walked toward the center of the city. What Batman found strange was that there was no light in the city at all. He had night vision thanks to his nano-gear, so he didn't fear the dark, but Schiller was strolling along as if he were in his own backyard.

Batman was anxious, remembering how monsters had swarmed them in this atmosphere last time. Even with his nano-gear, it had been a struggle. Was it really wise to walk down the street so openly?

Just as Batman thought this, he saw shadows churning at his feet. Before he could open his mouth to warn Schiller, Schiller turned his head, his gaze landing precisely on the patch of shadow.

"Can your nano-gear attack this thing?" Schiller asked with interest.

"Anything with a physical form, no," Batman shook his head. "Whether it's bullets or nanobots, they have no effect on these soul-like entities."

"Blood?"

"What?"

"Blood. Your blood," Schiller repeated. "Hand."

Batman hesitantly extended his hand. Schiller drew a dagger, sliced his index finger, and held the blood-stained blade up to his eyes. After a moment, as if confirming something, he said, "The sins in a soul before death are heavy, but once the soul departs, they aren't much to look at. Do you cry?"

Batman was completely lost. As he stood there dumbfounded, Schiller said impatiently, "Give me a tear. Preferably one shed from genuine emotion."

That was a tall order. Batman tried to recall something sad, but he couldn't cry. He had to use his nanobots to stimulate his tear ducts, then wiped his eyes with the corner of his cape.

Schiller stared at the damp fabric for a long time, then shook his head. "A pity, not the tears of a saint. This is troublesome. Let's go to the church."

Schiller's train of thought was erratic. Batman didn't understand a word, and he felt Schiller had completely lost his mind. When Schiller started walking in a certain direction, Batman hesitated.

Schiller ignored him and kept walking. Batman had no choice but to follow. After a while, he asked, "Are you talking about something religious? Do you think we're really being attacked by ghosts, and that church-related items can repel them?"

"That depends on how *he* thinks," Schiller said in a flat tone. He flicked his fingers lightly. "You've played chess, right? This is like playing Go, but suddenly the opponent swaps the board for a chessboard. What do you think of that?"

"Absurd," Batman evaluated.

"That is exactly what they want," Schiller said seriously. "They know Batman is good at Go and knows nothing about—or even hates—chess. So they swap the board to completely restrict Batman."

Batman seemed to grasp it. "My counterpart and I are both good at physical combat, but we know nothing of the occult. We usually dismiss it as nonsense. So they deliberately create occult-related phenomena to leave us passive and bewildered."

"Exactly," Schiller nodded. "Though 'occult' isn't quite right; it's more of a manifestation of subjective power. In the Ghost City, the city's will dictates how things manifest. That shadow that tried to attack us was the manifestation of his chosen attack method. What do you think would be an effective counter-measure?"

"Certainly not firearms," Batman said. "If they are targeting us specifically, physical attacks will be immune. Is it because the master of the Ghost City forbids it that our physical counter-attacks are ineffective?"

"Yes," Schiller said. "But out of a principle of fairness, it won't make all counter-measures ineffective. There must be one that works. But because it's a 'false fairness,' the effective counter-measure is something Batman would never use."

"I see. That implies the effective counter-measure is related to religion or the occult. But I truly know nothing of that. I'm afraid I can't help. Do you have any knowledge of it?"

"I'm thinking," Schiller said. "Azrael was once your disciple, yet he betrayed you and killed you for some reason. Doesn't that story sound familiar?"

"Jesus and Judas?"

"Exactly. But now you are using his body. It's as if the soul of the Savior has entered the body of the traitor, which might cause some strange reactions, or perhaps leave both sides impure. It seems the latter is more likely."

"What is the point of this? What should we do?" Batman was full of question marks. He understood nothing; he even doubted if Schiller had explained anything at all.

"The blood of a saint and the tears of a sinner are very important things. But if reversed, they aren't very useful," Schiller muttered. He turned to look at Batman again. "We must go to the church and see what God thinks of this."

They continued forward. Perhaps because the instance's intensity hadn't reached its peak, the monsters hiding in the shadows didn't swarm them like they had the Arkham Batman. They lingered in the dark, brewing, waiting, and watching.

This gave them a reprieve to traverse the darkness. After walking for what felt like ages, Batman had lost all sense of direction, but Schiller's steps remained firm, as if he knew exactly where the church was.

Finally, just as Batman began to feel exhausted, he saw the church spire. But this church was nothing like the Cat Getan Cathedral; it was several times larger, resembling a Gothic fortress. Its walls were pitch black and deep, its spires like the fangs of a monster, yet a faint, eerie light emanated from within—like a beacon in the dark, or the lure of an anglerfish in the deep abyss.

Schiller walked straight in. Batman followed.

The massive nave was empty. Although candles burned on the walls, they were insufficient to illuminate the vast, dark space. As they walked in, the Jesus statue nailed to the cross slowly raised its head.

"Come here," Schiller stood at the pulpit and beckoned Batman. "Place your hand on the Bible."

Batman walked over and saw a Bible laid out on the pulpit. He reached out, but the moment his fingertips were about to touch it, he felt a burning pain, as if scorched. He instinctively pulled back.

"As I thought," Schiller said. "Judas betrayed Jesus and became a sinner. From then on, he could touch nothing related to the Savior. That is the nature of this body. Read it."

Batman looked at the Bible Schiller had opened. He read a few lines at random, only to find the space around them brightening.

"Jesus suffered for all. He is the true Savior. When he spreads the truth, God's blessing descends with the chanting. This is the nature of your soul. Do not stop."

Batman glanced at Schiller, but continued reading. It wasn't until the space in the church grew so bright that he realized *he* was the one glowing. His light had even eclipsed the candles.

He hadn't expected the way out to be so simple. But for a Batman, this was incredibly difficult. No matter how dangerous the situation, no Batman would ever kneel and pray in a crisis, hoping for God to save him.

A Batman like the Arkham version was even less likely to do so. They believed that relying on heaven or earth was inferior to relying on oneself. The stronger the Batman, the more ingrained this psychology was. Asking them to pray on their knees in a crisis was worse than killing them.

"So this is a psychological trap?" Batman asked in a low voice.

"It's a false fairness," Schiller said. "It seems to leave a way out, but it deliberately steps on Batman's psychological blind spot. And even if you find this path, he won't let you out."

Batman looked around, finding that nothing had changed—except for himself glowing. They were still in the Ghost City; the illusion hadn't collapsed.

Under the illumination of the holy light, the darkness elsewhere didn't recede; it became even more concentrated. The monsters in the shadows finally began to reveal their true forms.

Shadow after shadow swayed at the edge of the holy light, encroaching toward the center. They nibbled at the light, devouring it, inching closer to the Batman in the center.

"What now?" Batman asked.

"Keep reading," Schiller turned to look at the Jesus statue, then scanned the environment of the nave. He looked left and right, but didn't seem to see anything; there appeared to be no solution.

Owlman watched Schiller's actions on the screen and clicked his tongue. "I didn't think he'd actually pass this stage."

With that, he looked at the empty seat. The voice sighed. "You're right, this guy is bizarre. When he headed to the church, I kept changing the streets and alleys, but I couldn't stop him; it was as if he were clairvoyant. But it doesn't matter. Even if he can hold off those monsters with the Bible for a moment, he still can't escape..."

*Boom— Boom—*

The moment the low roar of an engine sounded in their ears, a gasp of panic erupted from the empty seat.

*BANG!!!! *

Tables and chairs were sent flying. The wall projecting the clock tower was smashed open. Amidst the flying bricks and dust, a Batmobile, black as ink, roared in and came to a steady halt before them. As the armored figure stepped out of the car, the heavy killing intent he carried was as cold as the relentless rain of Cat Getan.

"Long time no see, everyone."