Chapter 4785

Following closely, Superman also arrived. He appeared to be in quite a good mood. As you know, Henry Superman naturally carries a melancholic temperament; no matter how cheerful and sunny he acts, he is far more profound than other Supermen, but now he looks like a cheerful, sunny young man. Still, as the saying goes, power is the best supplement.

In the film universe, the original plot had already been thrown into utter chaos by that snake. Later, various alien invasions actually made Superman, as president, govern smoothly and steadily. Although subsequent rule was not simple either, Superman soon encountered the Arkham Batman, gaining many useful suggestions on domestic affairs. In short, the outcome was good.

So when he heard that Arkham Batman needed teammates, he immediately rushed to assist. Arkham Batman never told him that, in fact, they were not teammates. He even did not tell anyone other than Greed. He also feared they would turn and flee.

Don't think Shiler is famous across the multiverse—Arkham Batman is no less renowned. In the Battle Realm, being matched against him on the opposing side is a sure sign of having brought misfortune upon oneself. Even Bruce could become a victim, showing how broad its reach and how great its striking power. One can only say that in this game, the protagonist is still too authoritative.

Many antihero characters who are neither wholly righteous nor wholly wicked choose to side with the main-universe Batman led by the Batman Alliance, largely because they were defeated by Arkham Batman. They believe the Batman Alliance is strong enough, so they opt to join.

Then Lucifer also arrived. This time he had learned his lesson, retracting his wings in advance, fearing that Doctor Manhattan would again assign him some rear-mounted accessory. Yet he still wore a dazed expression, as if he had no idea why he had come.

To be honest, Arkham Batman still envies this kind of lifestyle. If heaven grows tiresome, go to hell; if hell grows tiresome, come to the human world. Opening a bar means opening one and knocking it down, opening one and knocking it down, yet one lives exceedingly happily. In this world, few second-generation heirs of wealth make Batman genuinely envious, but Lucifer certainly counts as one.

Soon, Greed pulled Lucifer aside to mutter, seemingly discussing something about Anatoly. Arkham Batman had also gotten wind of that big melon earlier, but he was not particularly interested and paid it no mind.

The agent, however, was the last to arrive. Apparently he was on vacation again, and then Greed forcibly dragged him over. He also maintained his habitual style of skipping formalities, not asking about causes or consequences, simply standing before the elevator and preparing to enter.

These few people are not talkative types, nor do they wish to reminisce at length; once everyone had gathered, they prepared to begin. But Doctor Manhattan intercepted them. Evidently he was adjusting some things to prevent this lot from losing their temper and blowing up the room.

Especially Greed and Lucifer—Greed never follows the plot, doing whatever he pleases. The main reason he is not allowed to be a tester in the Battle Realm is his particular fondness for ordering fried rice at taverns. Test once, explode once; test once, explode once; with him present, no instance can be completed.

Lucifer, meanwhile, due to his exalted status, if truly provoked, even Doctor Manhattan cannot restrain him. Greed also knows this, so he grabbed Lucifer and gave him a stern lecture, which left Lucifer impatient.

"I am not the kind of person who cheats when playing games!" Lucifer emphasized, "I play dice with others in the bar, and even after losing ten rounds in a row, I did nothing. Rest assured, I will certainly not cause trouble."

Doctor Manhattan may not have believed this assurance, but having no alternative, he could only do his best to reinforce the room. After much fussing, the several people finally entered the elevator.

This time the loading took longer, and the several people remained inside for nearly an hour. Of course, to prevent boredom, team voice chat was retained. The several people chatted to pass the time, occasionally urging Doctor Manhattan, and did not complain overly much.

Loading completed, the elevator doors opened, and once again they arrived at the cutscene. However, this time production seemed enhanced—no longer a pitch-black void, and even narrative elements were added.

Five people were respectively bound to chairs, before them a round table laden with many dice and chips, appearing as a gambling table. Meanwhile, a tall figure stood before the table, metallic armor flashing with cold light.

"The bloody night at Chervis Casino is about to begin! Bold gamblers, take up your chips, and with your blood, organs, even your life, exchange for a whisper of victory's hope. Go forth—will you win the gamble, walk away with millions in prize money, or suffer utter defeat, meet a miserable end here? The choice is yours alone."

With a "crack," the floor opened, and everyone plummeted downward swiftly.

With a "bang," Greed fell onto the gambling table. Dice, playing cards, chips, and wine glasses scattered everywhere, like a coin dropped into a golden river, splashing forth gorgeous, drunken-gold water sprays.

Greed did not rush to rise; he turned over, lay flat on the gambling table, and realized he had been duped. Although Arkham Batman had told him they were opponents, he had not said this was asymmetrical combat. If five fought one, how strong would that one be?

He also finally understood why Arkham Batman insisted on dragging him along. It must be that in the previous hunt-turned-ghost match, Arkham Batman had been hunted by him throughout the match, and now he had come for revenge.

Greed let out a long sigh. To be frank, he did not wish for Arkham Batman to get his way, nor did he believe he had the ability to make Arkham Batman's combat enjoyable. Thus he could simply idle here, wait for Arkham Batman to come kill him, and then clock out early.

But the problem lay in his having dragged three others along. He had thought Matt and Arkham Batman were on the same side. What kind of person is Batman, that Greed still does not know? He would die trying to save teammates; as long as there remains a glimmer of hope, he would never abandon them. Matt being on his side means that even if they cannot win, they would certainly not lose for no reason.

But now Lucifer, Matt, and the agent are on his side; if he were to give up, humanity here would surely be crushed by Arkham Batman. So he steeled himself and began to devise strategies.

Greed rose from the gambling table, surveyed his surroundings. He should be in a private booth; besides the gambling table, there were chairs and sofas, as well as some antique cabinets and shelves.

However, while scanning the environment, he also noticed he could see skills in his field of vision. He glanced at his own skills and could not help but marvel: Doctor Manhattan is indeed formidable.

On the other side, as soon as Arkham Batman landed, he was overwhelmed by the vast array of skills in his field of vision. Good fellow, no wonder Shiler was so strong last round—this ghost's skills far outnumber those of humans, conservatively at least two sets.

Arkham Batman had already discerned that the underlying logic Doctor Manhattan designed for the ghost is shapeshifting. Basically, the closer one gets to people, the more kills one makes, the more points one earns to unlock a stronger form. Shiler is like this, and Arkham Batman is like this.

In his normal state, Arkham Batman uses the "Presidential Suit," fulfilling his wish to have some presidential abilities. However, this set of skills is not combat-oriented, leaving Arkham Batman slightly disappointed.

But the other set is the "Batman Suit." Once the Presidential Suit accumulates sufficient points, he can reclaim his Batman abilities. This set is incredibly strong—in Arkham Batman's view, it is in no way inferior to the Hunt, and may even surpass it.

Arkham Batman believes this should be Doctor Manhattan's balancing enhancement of his own strength, meaning his opponent is stronger. This game is destined to be highly stimulating.

When the agent awoke, he found himself in the restroom, and not the VIP lounge washroom, but likely the public restroom of the lobby. He could tell because in his past life he frequently entered casinos and similar venues.

Generally, those who play in the lobby are gamblers with little means. Although they cannot produce large sums, because their eyes are red with gambling, they linger year-round in casinos and also reap some profit. The casino's attitude toward them is to cut the weeds—swiftly drain whatever money they can squeeze out, then let them go wherever they wish to die.

For this reason, many of the casino's rest facilities and restrooms are designed to be narrow and uncomfortable, to hasten their departure and return to the gambling tables to continue gambling. The fragrance used is also strong—not only to suppress tobacco smell, but also to make people feel unpleasant, prompting them to leave quickly.

The restroom stall where the agent is located is indeed narrow; raising a hand inside takes effort. The fragrance mingles with the smell of vomit, making it utterly foul. The lighting is also glaringly bright, making it impossible to distinguish night from day.

The agent stepped out of the stall and saw a small window in the restroom. He pushed it, found it would not open, and there was no lock or similar device—this proves the map is limited to the casino.

He went from stall to stall pushing the doors open, and indeed found vomit in the foremost stall. Then he came to the washroom, first inspected the overhead faucet, then the lower pipes, and found nothing noteworthy.

The agent examined his own skills. His passive is "FBI Agent," which comes with a gun. However, it is merely a standard Krog, without a silencer, and comes with ten rounds of ammunition. No mention of a way to replenish ammo, so presumably after firing the gun, there is none left.

Then comes a control skill, "Anesthetic Needle." There is a micro anesthetic needle launcher on his wrist. This is rather fantastical. The agent knows that in reality, this is hardly achievable. On one hand, the needle as a projectile is not that stable; one needs to hit exposed skin exactly; moreover, stabbing limbs is ineffective—the drug acts too slowly; best is to hit the head or neck.

But the problem is, if you have a good aiming opportunity and can precisely stab someone's head or neck with the needle, you might as well just physically anesthetize them, causing acute metal poisoning, which is faster and more reliable.

If the purpose of shooting anesthetic needles is to protect the target, that is even more absurd. Because the drug dosage is hard to control, in hospitals even anesthesiologists must regulate it; even if dosed according to the target's weight, individuals vary in tolerance to anesthetics, and some may even be allergic. Using this thing to stab an important person one wishes to protect carries too high a risk—no intelligence agency would do this.

However, in spy films like the 007 series, such things appear quite readily. After all, many tactics in twentieth-century spy movies were highly fantastical—transforming amphibious combat aircraft could fill the skies, so a hypnotic needle or the like is quite normal.