Chapter 4794

If it weren't for the numbers in his field of vision suddenly jumping erratically for no reason, Superman would almost have thought he was genuinely afraid. His heart raced, he felt dizzy, and even his steps grew heavy—all because a number in his field of vision was rising.

"Unspeakable Fear: When you know who he is, when you know where he is, you inevitably feel fear. Only death can stop him."

Superman took a deep breath, trying to suppress this feeling of panic with his willpower. But there was no doubt he had failed—not only because this was a forced negative state, but he also had to admit—realizing they were facing Batman in Gotham did indeed bring considerable pressure.

However, Superman did not sit and wait for death. He quickly grabbed the chips he had pulled out of the drawer, felt his way out of the room, only to realize he no longer remembered where the store he had seen earlier was located.

He couldn't possibly be that forgetful. Superman immediately realized that even without his super-brain, it was impossible for him to be thinking about searching for chips one second and heading to the store the next, then forgetting the store's location he had just seen. Had someone forcibly erased his memory?

"Damn it." Superman muttered under his breath. The negative effects of the fear state were not just increased heart rate or heavy steps—it could affect his mind, causing his thoughts to become chaotic and his memory to grow disordered.

After darkness fell, Matt also froze for a moment. But his vision had always been pitch black, unaffected by light. What stopped him was that he seemed to faintly hear a laugh.

Matt knew full well this was absolutely not the laugh of any player, and certainly not Batman's. That laugh sounded utterly evil, even sending a chill of terror down one's spine, as if cold sweat broke out on the back.

"Hehehe..."

Another laugh. Matt jerked his head toward it, though he could not see, he turned his eyes toward the direction the laughter came from—but in his perception, there was nothing there. Neither ghost nor person.

"Hehe..."

Another laugh. Matt took a few steps sideways, grabbed the door frame. His powerful perception had never deceived him—even if his spirit was crushed, he remained as sharp as ever. This proved it could not be his hallucination; he must have suffered some kind of attack.

"Batman..." he murmured. Besides Batman, no one else could be responsible. Then this laugh—could it be the Joker?

Batman could not possibly have sent the Joker to attack him. Therefore, it was highly likely this was some kind of mental attack taking the form of the Joker.

Matt wanted to calm down—he truly had no reason to fear the Joker. Although Batman and Daredevil shared similarities, Daredevil and the Joker had no history, and the Joker's nonsense could not possibly affect him.

Matt thought this, then released his grip and prepared to walk out the door. But as he took a step forward, he slammed hard into the wall.

In that instant, Matt broke out in a cold sweat, his fingertips began to tremble.

His senses had deceived him.

There was no door there.

There had never been a door there.

Then what was the door frame he had been holding onto?

In that instant, Matt fell into true fear. For no one understood better than he did how many things a truly blind person without super-senses had to fear.

What he had touched could be anything—a pillar, a window frame, a balcony railing, or even... Batman's arm armor.

That object did not feel metallic to the touch, but he had no way to confirm it. He dared not reach out to touch it again.

Vision is humanity's most important and absolutely indispensable sense. The most common psychological ailment among the blind is the lack of a self-anchor. Many do not even know if they are truly alive.

Vision is powerfully persuasive. Everything you see continuously sends your brain the signal "this is real," but other senses lack this persuasiveness. What you hear, smell, or touch must undergo secondary processing in the brain before forming an internal image. This means anything you perceive could be a hallucination woven by the brain.

Congenital total blindness often leaves people trapped in this doubt: Is the world truly as they perceive it? Without reference points, everything is unreliable.

Those who acquire total blindness later in life experience this symptom to a lesser degree; their brain's imaging is more precise and thus more convincing than that of the congenitally blind. Yet over time, they too fall into the same loneliness and helplessness as those born blind. They do not know whether they exist in physical form or as consciousness, sometimes even forgetting they still have a body, believing they are already dead, their souls drifting in the world.

Matt was not congenitally blind, but he had indeed been blind for a long time. Worse still, his senses were far stronger than ordinary people's and had never deceived him. Precisely because of this, he rarely felt utterly helpless like ordinary blind people. This also meant that once his senses were completely disrupted, he would be utterly lost.

As he stood there, frozen and unsure what to do, a hand suddenly grabbed him. A greedy voice sounded in his ear: "It's me."

Matt didn't even pause to consider whether this was a hallucination—he lunged and grabbed Greedy's arm. He knew he was using too much force, for Greedy let out a low groan of pain. But he could not ease his grip, still clinging desperately to the other's arm.

"Don't be afraid, Matt." Greedy's tone was gentle, "I'm here. I came to find you the moment I noticed hallucinations appearing. Are you alright?"

"I'm fine." Matt gritted his teeth, "I'm a superhero."

"Yes, yes, you are." Greedy's tone carried a hint of a smile. This genuinely soothed Matt. He slightly loosened his grip, but still dared not fully release Greedy.

"This skill seems aimed at you, right?" Greedy was clearly trying to soothe Matt's emotions, "Can you tell me what you saw?"

"I heard laughter—possibly the Joker's."

"Oh, that might be Batman transferring the fear he experienced onto you."

"The fear he experienced?"

"Yes, earlier he killed the Joker, and part of the Joker virus transferred to him, causing him to constantly hallucinate sharing a body with the Joker." Greedy briefly explained the plot, "The Joker keeps muttering in his head, occasionally interfering with him. Yet in this state, he single-handedly defeated hundreds of enemies in one night, completed a pile of missions, and even found over two hundred trophies."

Matt loosened his grip a bit, as if encouraging himself: "Yeah, it's just a hallucination—Batman can overcome it, so why can't I?"

"You certainly can. But you and the Joker have no grudge—if it were merely his hallucination, you wouldn't be this afraid."

"I'm not afraid," Matt protested stubbornly, "I just... I'm not quite clear on the current situation... what the hell is Batman up to?"

"You're changing the subject again—clearly you've encountered something that truly terrifies you. What could it be?"

"Didn't you say I'm your friend? You can't figure it out?"

"Pointing out someone's deepest fear outright is a very rude act."

"I give you the right to say this."

"Alright." Greedy seemed to laugh again. He leaned toward Matt, then gently embraced him, arms around his body, stroking his back. This series of soothing gestures allowed Matt to relax slightly.

Greedy leaned close to Matt's ear. "Hehehe..."

When the anguished cry came through, the agent stared in shock, eyes wide. If he hadn't misheard, that was Matt's voice. Had Greedy attacked him?

Could it be that Lord President has more than one voter?

But now he didn't want to think about that, because that familiar music started up again—though this time it was a remixed version, darker, with some disordered sections in the middle, that sudden stop-then-rush rhythm, sounding somewhat eerie.

The agent instinctively reached for his gun. As he examined it, upon seeing his own arm, he suddenly noticed the tattoo on his arm—its text and lines twisting and distorting.

"Why won't you stay?"

"Why do you always run away?"

"Why aren't you long enough?"

These few lines seemed disjointed, but the agent seemed to grasp their meaning, merely commenting: "Boring hallucination."

The font kept shifting among these three lines. Not like someone interrogating, but like an inner voice echoing.

"I know what you want to hear. I crave yet avoid long-term relationships, so I always eagerly take on jobs, almost never seeking return, building connections with others, then after the mission ends, I walk away under the guise of vacation, drawing a clean line—like a womanizer addicted to one-night stands."

"But that's just being an agent. You can't find any agent who isn't afraid of loneliness and yet skilled at building long-term relationships. Their profession condemns them to wander society's dark side, which inevitably brings mental pressure—they need social contact to maintain mental health. Yet everyone who enters a relationship with an agent doesn't live long. Avoiding witnessing a person's death firsthand is the greatest sincerity an agent can show in proving friendship, so we always leave quickly."

"Engaging in deep emotional exchange is terrifying, because the more you invest, the more the other loses when they die. I prefer instant gratification, sampling and stopping. You must allow that some people, in emotional comfort, are more willing to substitute quantity for quality."

The agent let out a soft sigh: "If one of Batman's skills is making people manifest what they fear most deep inside, then he undoubtedly succeeded. Because before this I couldn't even maintain a long-term emotional relationship with myself, I hated self-communication, but now I've said so much to a tattoo — that's truly a novelty."

"However, a professional agent would quickly correct this mistake. A gold-medal lawyer who's made who knows how many enemies is also one of my clients. I have to go check on Matt."