Chapter 4921

"This is also Wayne's fault." Harley sighed and said. "Brainiac warned him not to go swimming in this weather, but he still couldn't resist his primal nature. By the way, he was trying to use a death roll to ambush the seagulls on the roof when he accidentally kicked over a utility pole, which led to him getting electrocuted."

Pamela let out a long sigh: "I really begged him."

But Harley still pulled out a map and said: "This is from Wayne's house. He used to be a sewer explorer and almost finished mapping all of Gotham's sewers."

They took it over and then discovered that the map's complexity exceeded their imagination—it could no longer be called a sewer; it should be called a dungeon.

"I always feel something's off." Damian looked at the map and said, "Wait, where is the Court of Owls' base?"

The Gotham of the main universe once flew up into the sky, directly overturning the skull of the Court of Owls' base. The Robins are very familiar with underground conditions, so no matter how they look at this map, it feels awkward. Those large chambers and relatively orderly passages are gone, as if it were truly just a city sewer.

"Our universe has no Court of Owls." Tim said, "Of course, it might have existed before, but somehow it disappeared later."

"But even if they're gone, the chambers couldn't just vanish with them, could they?" Nightwing said, "And Gotham still has an undercity undercity, which seems to be left by some ancient secret organization..."

"Who knows?" Tim said, "Our universe isn't as dangerous as the main one, so the situation might not be that complicated either."

Red Robin froze. He recalled eating that bite of the initial lantern and Lucifer's melon, and seemed to have vaguely heard that the initial lantern blew up something.

But now isn't the time to dwell on this. They compared Gotham's topographic map and worked out the fastest and safest route. However, the agent also pointed out that the cold storage facilities once dug out by gangs underground likely hid district bosses, and being ice-attributed, they would be very tough to fight.

"But the cold storage from the gang era didn't use dense ice, did it?" Tim proposed, "At least not the kind of dense ice with today's molecular stagnation level—it's still relatively ordinary hard ice, and firepower coverage should be able to get through."

"But my best firepower isn't in my hands." The agent sighed, "The bishop's Diana-blessed blade is actually the best fire-attribute weapon, perfect for fighting ice dungeons. But going to get it now would be a bit of a delay."

"Don't." Deathstroke said, "That thing is good for fighting monsters, but it also hurts a lot when you hit people. If you go charging around in the sewers, we'd have nowhere to hide."

Red Hood couldn't help but glance at Deathstroke. Looking at him, Deathstroke also has a story. Then he glanced at the agent. In this world, who hasn't been stabbed by Shiler?

The agent didn't defend himself, saying: "Then just make a few more Molotov cocktails. But the ordinary kind definitely won't work—did you make sticky gasoline?"

"The underground lab can make it, but we haven't had time yet." Tim said, "Just wait a moment, we'll make a few sticky gasoline Molotov cocktails and flamethrowers."

After saying that, he gave Red Robin a look and went to the basement. The Molotov cocktails they previously made were the crudest alcohol-based ones, because those were the only materials available at the time.

But after going through monster fights and completing quests, they obtained many basic materials, including those for making sticky gasoline. Sticky gelled gasoline and ordinary gasoline are not the same—it can adhere to object surfaces and keep burning, and once it sticks, it can't be shaken off, considered one of the most cruel chemical weapons in modern times, and is not allowed to be used on humans.

But if it's used against monsters in a game, it doesn't matter—especially since this monster is very likely ice-attributed, then this gasoline that sticks and burns as soon as it's sprayed would be very useful.

The formula for this gasoline isn't actually complicated—if mixed properly, it can be made without high-end equipment. The two of them went downstairs and tinkered for a while, and made quite a bit.

"We probably won't have time to make flamethrowers." Tim shook his head and said, "We lack lightweight materials—plastic, that sort of thing—are all missing. If you can find any, try to bring some back."

"No problem." Ted said, "I can use holographic projection simulation technology to create a flamethrower, but I need to know its structure. Just give me the blueprint."

Tim drew him a simple version of the flamethrower's structural diagram. Because Ted's ability also has limits, the more complex the thing he materializes, the more energy it consumes, and as long as the thing exists, it continuously consumes energy.

So having Ted make a missile or guidance system or something like that is unlikely, because these things are too precise. Even if barely made, the maintenance time wouldn't be long, and it wouldn't be worth it.

But the main working principle of a flamethrower is just spraying out solidified gasoline, which isn't complicated. Moreover, the most complex component—the solidified gasoline—has been made, so he only needs to replicate the flamethrower's physical structure, which is much easier.

Ted is obviously not a slouch—he considered his own energy intensity and reserves, and directly built a super-large flamethrower. The whole unit is fixed on the back, with four gun barrels extending backward to spray fire, capable of burning everything in front to ash in an instant. The only problem is that it consumes fuel quite heavily.

"No problem." Deathstroke said, "You don't need to clear the small fry—wait for the boss to appear, then open fire, and it'll be more than enough."

They thus finalized the battle plan and then set off toward the dungeon. At the same time, the team heading to Blackwater Alley was not proceeding as smoothly as expected—this area requires dice rolls.

It's not that you roll dice after accepting a quest, but once you enter this area, you must proceed with gameplay via this judgment method. Very unfortunately, none of the few who went had good luck.

The Arkham Knight looked at the dice on the terminal, that lone pair of dots, and for a moment didn't know what to say.

You could say the intelligence was wrong, killing thousands of troops, it's because the bishop didn't tell them how this place works, causing their mistake. But after thinking carefully, among all known game participants now, it seems no one has particularly good luck.

In other words, even if they knew they had to roll numbers, swapping in a different group might still yield the same result. The people around Batman are all old jinxes—no one should say another is worse.

The Arkham Knight is especially unlucky, but if he weren't so unlucky, he wouldn't have become almost the only one in the multiverse kidnapped and tortured by the Joker for so many years—Jason. Though saying it sounds hellish, those Jasons who died on the spot are actually lucky in comparison—only he endured so much suffering.

While he was still reflecting on himself, Harley had already started attacking Brainiac: "What the hell?! How could I only roll a 3? Did you cheat?!"

"I didn't." Brainiac replied, "Cheating does me no good either. The numbers are random—it's just your bad luck."

"Ha." Harley sounded like she'd heard the funniest joke ever, "Come on, I'm Harley Quinn, the luckiest Harley Quinn in the entire multiverse!"

"Isn't there a possibility," Brainiac continued in that same flat tone, "that Harley Quinn's luck isn't all that great. Otherwise, how would you guys have run into the Joker?"

Harley was momentarily out of breath. Cassandra pulled her arm, signaling her not to argue with Brainiac. She glanced at Charles beside her, and Charles said to Brainiac: "She says she wants to make a skill check."

"What skill?" Brainiac asked.

"Rooftop and window infiltration technique." Charles said, "You can't assume this broken house's roof and windows are completely flawless—that wouldn't be reasonable."

Harley gave Charles a thumbs-up. Truly worthy of being Professor X—this persuasive power is off the charts, and of course, precisely because he's Professor X, Brainiac doesn't dare provoke him too much. Moreover, what he said is indeed reasonable, so Brainiac let Cassandra make a skill check.

Cassandra's overall skill score is high, so the dice roll requirement is low. Although she only rolled a 4, the requirement was only 2, so of course she passed. Cassandra directly flipped up onto the roof, found the weak point, peeled back the thatch and tiles, and silently slipped inside.

Soon, she came back holding a notebook. Everyone flipped through it and discovered this was actually the most crucial item—it recorded how to expel the drowned. The bishop hadn't found it before because he'd never opened this door—possibly due to a failed judgment, or maybe he just missed it.

However, the method recorded here is somewhat complex. First, you need an old seal, then you need to build a bonfire, combine it with a summoning ritual to summon the target out, first use the old seal to restrain them, then use the bonfire to burn them to death.

"Is this modern people?" Harley couldn't help but snap, "What era is this, still using medieval methods? Bring out the flamethrower!"

It's not wrong to say their thoughts all converged. They'd long known this thing fears light and heat, so there was no need to use primitive methods. That's why the game progress isn't that fast—but if it were late-game, they'd just build an artificial sun, and no one would complain about him having any opinion.

"But if the old seal can restrain him, then it's much easier to handle." Charles said, "But who should do it remains a problem. I'm not sure I can perfectly protect your minds while you're facing him directly. My research on outer gods is still not deep enough."

This is indeed a problem. Because outer gods seem uninterested in Marvel's side—even the old cliché of the evil eye only interests the Sorcerer Supreme and his apprentices, and pays no attention to mutants at all. Thus, Charles's contact time with outer gods has been very limited, even sayable as only beginning after arriving in this universe.

Although he is an extremely powerful psychic, capable of thought storms that can sweep and shred the sanity of any sentient being, outer gods aren't entirely a psychic infection. Their invasion method is sneaky, and Charles hasn't fully figured it out yet—still needs research and experimentation.

"Actually, I have an idea." Harley said, "When we went to support Gotham Cathedral, the monsters there seemed to be outer god–related. You said outer gods attack each other?"

This question indeed stumped the few of them. Actually, their knowledge of outer gods is also limited—at most, they've encountered similar situations in dungeons. And now, facing this situation, not consulting an expert is truly impossible.

Harley logged off, then called Jason.