Chapter 4908: There Is No Batman Here (13)

However, Deathstroke's face is indeed easier for teenagers to accept. After all, when you face an old man with a graying beard, even though this old man just beat you up, the underlying code of respecting the elderly and caring for the young makes it hard to curse at this face, otherwise you'd appear a bit lacking in upbringing. But if it's a peer the same age as yourself, there aren't so many scruples.

"Good lord." Red Hood, although he hadn't argued with Deathstroke just now, opens with a kill shot at this moment, "Do you know Constantine? If not, I suggest you go get acquainted."

"How could I not know Constantine?" Deathstroke's eyelashes are also golden, so when he smiles he appears exceptionally contemptuous, like a Golden Retriever that did something bad, "I'm not Batman, who would let him run his mouth. Last time he accidentally got hung above a shark pool by a Honduras gang, I shot him in the crotch first, then cut the rope. Ah, truly a refreshing hunt."

The Robins instantly feel a chill in their groins. You say this is evil grinding against evil, but it's too evil. Thinking that Deathstroke usually beats them so ruthlessly, yet might still have been holding back out of respect for Batman's face, no one fails to feel a shiver of dread.

"Let's talk business." Red Robin is quite adaptable; he works hard to dispel those terrifying fantasies in his head and says, "How's it on your end? Are the monsters strong?"

"Can tell you've been through a tough battle," Deathstroke says, "But unfortunately, the several other groups gathered at Gotham Cathedral unanimously agree you might be the weakest group, so they sent us to deliver equipment to you."

"How is that possible." Nightwing is somewhat incredulous, "We're all professionally trained superheroes, and we brought full equipment."

"Then I must introduce the other groups' members." Deathstroke leisurely removes his gloves and says, "Three groups separately have Shiler. That other group without Shiler, besides having Poison Ivy, seems to have other metahumans too. Oh right, Professor X came as well."

The Robins exchange glances, clearly not expecting this trial-period game to assemble so many heavy hitters. Although they are well-trained and well-equipped, they indeed can't compare to those metahumans, especially since this dungeon doesn't restrict metahuman use.

"I'm not sure if you need my help." A voice sounds from the corner of the Wayne Manor living room. They turn their heads and see an equally young Charles Xavier. Good news: he doesn't have black hair. Bad news: those eyes are too blue.

But compared to this, how he entered the manor silently is obviously more worth studying. The Robins haven't even opened their mouths to ask before Charles's words send a chill down their backs.

"Don't worry, I'm just your hallucination." Charles says, "After some harmless editing of your brainwaves, I can appear before you in this way. I believe this is more conducive to communication."

Damian's mouth twitches. If you didn't tell the truth, that might indeed be more conducive to communication. Now, not necessarily.

"You are the true tactical experts, while I don't understand these things well," Charles says, "But I can relay messages between different players; perhaps other groups' players need your tactical brains. You'd also want to hear their opinions, wouldn't you?"

Things have been said to this extent, several people can't say no. Don't look at this Professor X being a young version too, but his whole body exudes strangeness; compared to him, young Deathstroke looks positively handsome. A golden retriever is stronger than an Outer God no matter what.

"Thank you, Professor," Nightwing says, "If there's a need, we'll definitely speak up."

"What are the monsters like on your end?" Agent asks.

"Some winged bat monsters, using human thermal weapons. But this doesn't seem to be all," Red Robin explains, "We also saw some existences similar to angels and demons, just the first wave of attack didn't deploy them."

"If that's the case, perhaps each area has different races of monsters. The first wave deployed the weakest; later there will be more powerful monsters launching surprise attacks." Agent throws the Faith Core in his hand to Nightwing, then says, "This thing can be used to craft mental and magical defense items, but you need a blueprint first. Brainiac, can we send them the blueprint?"

"Possible, but only face-to-face transmission." Brainiac says, "The terminal has no remote communication function; you can only use your own methods to exchange information remotely."

"I'll send it to you," Agent says, "He just scanned the Jesus statue inside Gotham Cathedral."

Red Robin's eyes flicker, but he still receives the blueprint sent over. Deathstroke sees through his thoughts; he says, "If you understand magic, perhaps you can rub one together yourself. Still better than Jesus."

After the two of them leave, Nightwing looks at Red Robin. Red Robin also raises his eyes to look at him, but after one glance, he looks toward another corner of the room.

The other several people follow his gaze, but there's nothing there. Red Hood shudders: "What are you looking at?"

"Lilith." Red Robin says.

"You brought her here?!"

"She never left." Red Robin shakes his head and says, "I need an ancient and powerful enough existence as my magic consultant. Why did you think Batman always called me to the Furnace Lab to do research?"

"You really know magic?" Damian asks, "That stuff is dangerous, how would Batman agree to you messing with it."

"Before, the two of us only communicated. I truly started researching after the magic defense network was built." Red Robin walks to the sofa and sits down, starting to study the Faith Core in his hand, "With the magic defense network, researching magic becomes much easier and safer. Lilith counts as a good contract partner; we get along fairly well."

"All magic has a price; what did you pay her?"

"Still that sentence: with the magic defense network, giving these mystical existences permission to operate on Earth is already the best reward." Red Robin looks up, "Have to say, the Sorcerer Supreme who researched this system is truly a genius."

He lowers his head again to look at the Faith Core: "Pure defense is fundamentally not a solution. No matter how much power, it will be exhausted under siege by large numbers of monsters. Only rapid killing of effective forces can survive more ambushes."

"So you plan to make this thing into a weapon?" Red Hood crosses his arms, frowns slightly, "You have confidence?"

"I have to try," Red Robin says, "But I feel my approach isn't wrong; killing power is the key."

"So what kind of array is this?" Shiler looks at Constantine and asks, "How is it different from the original Jesus statue?"

"The Jesus statue can only be used for defense," Constantine says without raising his head, "But you also saw, defense is fundamentally useless; if you can't rapidly kill monsters, it's completely waiting for death, and we can't always rely on others."

"How about this," Shiler speaks up, "Me waiting here serves no purpose; better to go out and explore, do a few missions, collect some materials, might be able to construct more arrays."

Constantine glances at him, seeming somewhat surprised; Shiler says somewhat helplessly, "I didn't plan to slack off till the end; even if I can't compare to Agent Mr., at least I can do something."

"I don't mean to blame you," Constantine is very calm, "Just now so many people came to support us, it's all your merit. You've done enough; resting here a while is nothing."

Constantine is completely not mocking; his tone is very sincere. Shiler lightly draws a breath; he sizes Constantine up and down, then says: "If you don't want to attract the attention of those mental psychos, don't pin all hopes on God. Continuing like this, you might be the next one nailed to a cross. Lunatics love Christ the most."

"If you think you can win the game alone while nailing me to a cross, I'll play Jesus once and bless you. I'll be more responsible than him." Constantine smiles; his smile doesn't have the blond Constantine's dissolute unrestrainedness, but rather an elegance tinged with a few shades of melancholy, like at a noble's wine party, clinking glasses with someone and cracking a joke about the weather.

Shiler's movement pauses again: "I'm going to do missions."

The church's great doors close behind Shiler. The mist outside isn't as dense as during loading; surrounding streets and rooftops are faintly visible. These are all old houses, neat rows of black-gray Gotham spires, with hideous gargoyles on the eaves. This is also the only corner where one can glimpse Gotham's dark ages, as if the mysterious organization that secretly manipulated this city in those years has never left.

Shiler has already locked onto a mission — he doesn't intend to fight monsters. But fortunately, among the several missions refreshed, each has a very obvious tendency. Moreover, the mission introduction even thoughtfully marks the probability of triggering combat. The one Shiler chose has the lowest combat trigger probability, only about 20%.

"Secret of Blacktail Alley: The old alley east of Gotham Cathedral is always filled with intense sea-fish stench; it's said that was once a tidal flat. After fishermen took root there, it became the initial place for exchanging catches and selling seafood. Only recently, people have faintly heard unusual laughter there, and the fishy stench grows heavier. Your task is to investigate there and find the source of the fishy stench."

This sounds like it has something to do with an Old God. Shiler is still relatively skilled at investigating this kind of thing. But he has some details to confirm; he says: "This 20% combat trigger probability — does it mean I might randomly run into monsters, or that I'll trigger combat only if I make certain wrong choices?"

"The latter," Brainiac says, "And, every mission has special mechanics; you can click open the detailed introduction to take a look."

Shiler clicks open the detailed introduction below the mission description and discovers there are indeed some special mechanics marked in colored font. Shiler raises an eyebrow and says to Brainiac: "You sure this is Nyah's sponsorship?"

Shiler has this doubt because the special mechanics read: "All event resolutions are determined by rolling dice; dice provided by Brainiac. Prohibited from assaulting the organizer because of bad dice luck."

"It's Nyarlathotep," Brainiac says, "He even complained to me that humans always want to beat him by rolling dice."

"He doesn't like dice?"

"On the contrary, he loves this method to death. Since meeting Anatoli, he can even roll dice with humans for a whole day straight."