Chapter 4948

The agent followed the pier's extending walkway and arrived before this seabird. His gaze fell upon the abdomen of the King of Sea Gulls. Bell drew his sword, and blood stained the seawater red.

"It seems... a bit weak?" the agent squinted.

"Indeed, not as strong as imagined," Bell said, "Logically speaking, for a creature this large, being stabbed once or shot once should be akin to a human being pricked by a single hair—it shouldn't collapse this quickly."

"There's something inside its belly," the agent said, looking at the King of Sea Gulls' abdomen. "Let's cut it open and see."

Bell twitched his mouth; performing abdominal surgery on such a large seabird would probably be difficult. Never mind whether it could be cut open—just figuring out how to begin is a problem. Where are the bird's digestive organs?

Bell hesitated for a moment, then still jumped onto the King of Sea Gulls' back. Though he had never dissected a gull before, he had cut plenty of turkeys. He gauged the size and chose a spot to cut. Luck was on his side—he sliced open the stomach in one go.

As soon as he cut it open, Bell let out a muffled groan. He staggered a few steps, nearly falling into the water, but fortunately the agent also jumped up and steadied him.

"No, don't look," Bell said, "There's..."

Bell shook his head, appearing somewhat dazed. But soon, Charles's phantom appeared in his vision, and the chaotic thoughts gradually calmed.

"It seems it ate something it shouldn't have," the agent said. He closed his eyes, avoided looking, drew Diana's blessing, and extended the gun muzzle into the incision. With a "bang," countless forbidden whispers and screams exploded in their ears, and both fell into the water.

The agent's eardrums bled, and Bell's head buzzed even more. As they swam toward the shore, Bell said, "Don't do this anymore—I have zero resistance..."

The agent also felt a headache coming on. The King of Sea Gulls' stomach must contain something eldritch; they lack the means to deal with it, and continuing like this definitely won't work.

"Constantine is nearby," Charles said, "I've already notified him to come."

Not long after, Constantine and the bishop's figures appeared in the mist. Upon seeing the giant seabird lying on the water's surface, Constantine furrowed his brow.

"It's in bad shape," Constantine said, "Contaminated by something, constantly struggling. Fortunately, it's just a beast and cannot comprehend overly profound things, or it would have gone mad already."

"Can we find a way to dispel it?" the agent asked him.

"Yes," Constantine said after a moment's hesitation, "But not in the water, because fire won't light there. Get it ashore, and I can perform an exorcism."

This posed another difficulty. Hauling such a massive beast ashore is truly exhausting, but the agent still decided to give it a try. He said to Charles, "Where is Polaris?"

"They're fighting the boss in the southern district and can't come for now. But Pamela and Tim are in the eastern district—I've already called them."

Not long after, Pamela and Tim arrived. Seeing the giant seabird, Tim exclaimed in shock, "Why is Popeye here too?"

"What?"

"Popeye—that's its name," Tim said, pointing at the King of Sea Gulls, "In Gotham's local mythology, it is the sea god's mount and also selects sacrificial offerings for the sea god..."

"The sea god probably doesn't want Gotham's offerings," the bishop said.

"Can you get it ashore?" the agent looked at Pamela.

"No problem. But are you trying to save it?"

"I think it can be tamed," the agent said bluntly, "Trying won't hurt."

Pamela nodded. She pointed forward, and countless vines burst from the soil, first gripping the King of Sea Gulls' neck, then its wing roots, slowly dragging it toward land.

Near the shore it became strenuous, but fortunately, birds are naturally lighter in weight; even at this size, its mass still doesn't compare to similarly sized beasts. More and more vines sprouted from underground, even directly lifting the seabird into the air, then slowly placing it on a small stretch of sand beside the dock.

Constantine had also prepared his materials. Besides the previous old seal, he had the bone flute given by the agent. They gathered firewood near the dock and piled it into a bonfire. Constantine took a piece of charcoal from it, muttered incantations, said something, closed his eyes, and threw the charcoal into the incision in the King of Sea Gulls' abdomen.

Then he blew the bone flute. A hollow, distant sound echoed in everyone's ears. The King of Sea Gulls violently flapped, letting out a painful wail. Black liquid flowed from its abdomen—this liquid seemed alive, continuously crawling toward the ocean.

Immediately after, a sea urchin covered in countless black tentacles crawled out of its stomach, making everyone's scalp tingle. But once this thing left its body, the King of Sea Gulls' condition improved significantly.

Pamela waved her hand, and tiny vines like sutures stitched up the King of Sea Gulls' abdominal wound. Its heart still bore injury, but its condition had greatly improved.

Charles also helped calm the King of Sea Gulls' spirit, then said: "It ate something, felt stomach pain, dizziness, and couldn't tell direction clearly. But it has been resisting..."

"It has some power of faith within it," Constantine said, "This itself can resist contamination."

"Looks like the sea god was right," Tim said, "But I think it's more likely that Gotham's local contamination doesn't want to easily relinquish its hold."

This view gained more acceptance among everyone. After all, before pondering why the King of Sea Gulls was contaminated, everyone needed to first consider why this creature exists at all. How did seagulls grow this large? Surely it's not just from eating too many fries?

The agent seemed to think of something, but he still walked to the front of the King of Sea Gulls' head. The blood color in the seabird's eyes faded somewhat. The agent tentatively patted its head, and Brainiac suddenly popped up a prompt.

"Mount taming mission begins: Investigate the truth behind Popeye's contamination. Upon success, you can tame it as a mount, store it in the terminal, and deploy it anytime."

Everyone widened their eyes. This thing really can be tamed, even stored in the terminal for on-demand use. Doesn't that make it an invincible mount?

In any game, flying mounts are extremely rare—many are only obtainable in the late game. Because once you can fly, ground monsters become irrelevant, possibly allowing you to skip many carefully designed processes. Many game developers don't want their hard work wasted like that, so early on they give nothing that can fly, forcing players to honestly progress from the ground up.

But think about it—open-world games without fast travel are inherently torturous. Just like now, they can't quickly transfer between several bases; although they have vehicles, the speed isn't that fast, much time is wasted on running, and the gaming experience suffers.

But with a flying mount, it's different—at least you don't have to fight while running or worry about taking a wrong path and crashing into a high-level monster you can't beat. The King of Sea Gulls is large enough; having a few people on its back is no problem, which solves the issue of excessively long map traversal time. Brainiac really knows how to care for player experience.

Constantine circled the King of Sea Gulls, then precisely cast a healing spell on its heart, improving its condition further. However, due to wing injury, it still cannot fly for now.

"I'll go investigate," Constantine said, "You guys go find it something to eat."

Constantine and the bishop left. The others exchanged glances.

"What do seagulls eat? Fries?"

"It should be able to eat human industrial food, right?"

"But we don't have much industrial food either, little Pam. Have your plants grown yet?"

"No. But we retrieved some from the lab—though seagulls don't eat vegetation, do they?"

"Then why can it eat fries?"

"Stop obsessing over fries—go find it some fish."

Everyone turned to look at the sea. As everyone knows, Gotham's fish are no pushovers. Even as strong as the King of Sea Gulls, it hasn't escaped being slapped by sea fish, and who knows what else is in the water now. If we go fishing now, we'll likely end up playing fish games next.

"There are quite a few restaurants at the dock," Tim said, stroking his chin, "The back kitchens should have some stored food—each go look."

For now, that's all we can do. They scattered to nearby restaurants to find food, but still left two people here to watch the King of Sea Gulls. Tim and Pamela had good luck—they quickly found supplies in a restaurant: some frozen hamburger buns.

This stuff certainly won't taste good, but right now, the safest thing in the entire eastern district is this industrial food. Even fresh items like sausages might already be contaminated.

Carbohydrates can quickly replenish energy. They dumped these buns into the King of Sea Gulls' mouth. Not long after, it could barely stand up, using its sharp beak to preen its feathers.

Pamela and Tim looked up at this giant seabird.

"I really haven't seen it this close before," Tim said, "It always flies so high—even professional birdwatchers need to crouch for days just to catch a glimpse of it."

"Can't deny it—God is a great painter," Pamela said, "The animals and plants on this planet are so beautiful they leave you in awe. Even magnified dozens of times, the details hold up under scrutiny."

"Birds are evolutionary miracles," Tim said, "Too bad Brainiac's enforcement of animal protection laws is too strong—in the real world, nobody dares get this close to it, otherwise I'd love to ride it around in a circle."

"Don't even think about it," Blayniak said at just the right moment, "Even if I don't catch you, those birdwatching enthusiasts will sue you."

Suddenly, the King of the Great Gulls let out a cry. Blayniak's system prompt appeared, it turned into a beam of light and was collected into Tim's personal terminal.

"Wow, it chose you." Blayniak's tone remained flat, "Of course, it could also be because you just want to ride it, while everyone else wants to cook it."

Soon, Constantine and the bishop also returned to the beach. Seeing the giant seabird's silhouette disappear, he knew the mission was already completed. The agent looked at him and asked: "What did you find out?"

"Some kind of pollution is spreading here." Constantine said, reporting the information he had just gathered from the other side of the dock, "It started with people, then plants and animals. This seabird must have eaten a contaminated person, which almost led to its own contamination. But its resistance is stronger than that of ordinary beings, so it didn't immediately turn into a monster."

"What kind of pollution?" the agent followed up.

"Some kind of black, living substance." Constantine paused before saying, "It's very similar to what the drowned have, but not exactly the same—it turns people into monsters with mental pollution abilities."

"Where is it spreading from?"

"Still unclear," Constantine said, "But this thing must have a source. We need to investigate where this outbreak originated before we can expel it—this cannot be accomplished through violence and slaughter alone."