Chapter 617: Pathological Crisis (I)

Regardless, after two catastrophic defeats, the Owl Court and the Dark Owl Priests have been utterly annihilated; if one must pinpoint where they lost, it was solely due to their own greed and arrogance.

Originally, they could have completely sealed off Gotham's energy-storing owl statue, preventing its energy from responding to the nursery rhyme's call and entirely abolishing the method of influencing children through nursery rhymes.

But perhaps, they harbored a "since we're here" and "since we've built it" mindset: having invested so much effort to create so many rules, they decided to leave it behind during relocation—just in case it might accidentally continue influencing Gotham; if it worked, great; if not, no loss.

The Dark Owl Priests never imagined that someone in Gotham would unite to steal their energy—and that these united individuals possessed strategy, technology, magic, and martial power; within just over a month, they drained all the energy the Priests had accumulated over decades.

Metropolis's failure was the same: once they discovered Gotham's energy was gone, they panicked, viewing Metropolis's energy as their last lifeline, their sole remaining asset, and thus became utterly disoriented and frantic.

Without the resolve to cut losses decisively, they were manipulated like fish tossed left and right; Schiller exploited this flaw perfectly: if the energy was in Gotham while they were in Metropolis, he stole Gotham's energy and lured them to Gotham, then destroyed their Metropolis base; if the situation reversed, he did the same.

This ensured they were perpetually stunned and disoriented upon arrival, unable to organize any effective resistance.

Dealing with these magic-wielding fools was even easier than confronting the Owl Court, because they always held an arrogance that treated magic as an unbreakable tool, believing anything sealed within a magical barrier was 100% safe.

One can only say that if the devils of Hell were all like them, Constantine would laugh in his sleep.

Regardless, these owl monsters are finished.

Schiller had originally planned to keep them alive, forcing them to keep drawing energy from Bartos, then rationing it slowly; but Constantine told him the energy obtained couldn't be used directly—it required purification through human flesh or soul, with no substitutes, and efficiency would be abysmally low; the energy Schiller stole was the result of decades of accumulation.

Knowing this truth, Schiller realized keeping them alive would cost more than the energy they produced, so he abandoned the plan and let Constantine strike them down one by one with his staff.

After finishing matters here, the group returned to Gotham; Lex also returned—his three-month medical leave was barely halfway over when Hal healed him with a single healing spell, and now he was at Gotham University's lab, studying the dark energy with Bruce.

Lex wanted to stay in Metropolis to study, but Clark adamantly refused; he believed such dangerous energy should be kept as far away from ordinary people as possible, even suggesting sending the massive Dark Owl statue into the sun for destruction—if Schiller could've used his umbrella to hit him in reality, Clark would've had a swollen head by now.

The two emptied Dark Owl statues were both transported to Gotham University's newly constructed lab building; currently, only the shell of the building was complete, but it was sufficient for storage; Bruce and Lex were inside studying the energy and the statue.

Yet two such brilliant minds together inevitably clashed; Bruce and Lex's experimental approaches weren't merely different—they were diametrically opposed, and even where their methods overlapped, they insisted on proving whose was superior.

When the young Batman and the young Luthor meet, if the young Superman is present, he's the one who suffers; if Superman isn't there, and they can't reason with each other, they resort to physical persuasion—what's known as "geniuses act, they don't talk."

Meanwhile, Schiller was undertaking a task he'd delayed far too long but was critically important: taking his annual leave.

A Walk to Immortality

Last time he planned to take leave, Green Lantern Hal landed directly on the central lamp post of Gotham's roundabout, causing a massive traffic accident that completely destroyed his vintage car.

He had to buy a new one, and processing the paperwork took time; now, the new car was ready, his luggage packed, and on the second night after returning to Gotham, he drove toward Brimley.

This was his first long vacation since arriving in this world, and Brimley offered pleasant scenery, warmer than current Gotham, making it an ideal destination for rest and leisure.

The brand-new Ford sped along the highway out of Gotham; at the endless plain's horizon, twilight light danced in the wind, air ripples shimmering like ocean waves beneath the sea, the car gliding between towering trees like a fish darting through seaweed.

The car radio constantly played music with a hint of jazz; Schiller gripped the steering wheel with one hand, the other resting outside the window, feeling the East Coast wind tousle his hair as he raced across the boundless open road, imagining his upcoming vacation.

Suddenly, a sharp ringing sound pierced the air; Schiller glanced sideways at the passenger seat.

Inside his bag was a communicator Bruce had given him—somewhere between a walkie-talkie and a phone, but with far fewer functions—now emitting a phone-like ring.

Schiller switched his grip on the wheel, reached out, and pressed the communicator; instead of Bruce's voice, Victor's came through; Schiller answered:

"Hello? … Yes, I've left Gotham. What? Oh? Really? So what?" Schiller's voice was icy; "…Lex and Bruce are fighting in the lab, both ended up in the hospital… Wait, how did Bruce end up in the hospital? Did Lex actually beat him up?"

"What? Clark showed up too? Did Lex call him? Did he follow the Bat-Cat? Then he walked in on them fighting—and Hal, what's he doing here?"

Victor sighed and explained: "Bruce and Lex fought over experimental direction; Lex struck first; when Bruce retaliated, he accidentally injured him."

"The Bat-Cat wanted to return to Gotham to discuss something with Bruce; Clark was assigned to bring him; when he arrived, he caught them mid-fight and mistook Bruce for bullying Lex, so he intervened—accidentally bumped the lab table, crushing Bruce."

"Hal also came looking for Bruce, just as Clark was trying to take him to the hospital; he mistook Clark for attacking Bruce—now, they've fought all the way to Titan III…"

Schiller opened his mouth: "You're sure no one stoked the fire?"

"I don't know. When I got to the scene, the lab was empty—only Pikachu remained."

"Then you know exactly who stoked it." Schiller snorted; then he heard Victor say: "Precisely because I know who started it, I'm calling his owner—if I didn't, by the time they recover, your pet might be…"

"Tell Bruce to pick a better scapegoat. No broccoli." Schiller hung up; he had zero interest in Gotham's chaos right now.

After all his efforts, the troubles that could reach him in this chaotic city had shrunk from monumental to trivial.

Especially since Lex arrived, daily life revolved around Lex, Cobblepot, and Bruce—two would fight, one would stumble upon them, then all three would brawl, ending with everyone except Bruce in the hospital.

Schiller had no desire whatsoever to mediate these student brawls—even though none of them had parents to appease—he'd rather go harass the Owl Court than untangle their mess.

While he was on the phone, the car had traveled far enough from Gotham that the surroundings grew increasingly desolate, the wind stronger, the sun sinking below the horizon, night descending.

Schiller reached over and turned up the radio to drown out the howling wind, but amid the music, he caught an unusual sound—something like metal scraping, something like a bird's cry.

"Sssss—" The screech of tires braking echoed; by the time the sharp blade pierced the driver's cabin, the occupant was already gone.

On the car's right rear side, Schiller reappeared, opening his umbrella; its strange pattern spun, causing the attacker to freeze for an instant; as Schiller closed the umbrella, he saw the attacker's face—the one who shattered his windshield.

The assassin wore a black bodysuit; the only splash of color was two tufts of yellow feathers above his eyes; Schiller recognized this outfit well—he'd seen such killers during the War of Living Hell; they were called "Talons," working for the Owl Court.

Cold blade-light struck again; the Talon charged forward, short knife in hand, while simultaneously hurling the short dagger mounted on his chest to block Schiller's escape routes; Schiller flickered away, reappearing at the car's front.

He observed: this Talon differed from the one he'd seen before—better equipped, more muscular, gaze colder; clearly, they served different masters—perhaps the mysterious owls hidden behind the Dark Owl Priests had turned their attention to Schiller.

This assassin was far more professional than the previous one; the location—nowhere near town or village, only wasteland—was perfect for murder and robbery.

Thinking this, Schiller instantly teleported behind the Talon, extending his umbrella-blade; a flash of light—the Talon rolled away.

Another flicker—Schiller reappeared behind the Talon again; the Talon spun, raised his short knife to block Schiller's umbrella-blade tip, stepped back two paces, and hurled several daggers—all evaded by Schiller using the car as cover.

At last, the Talon realized that killing an opponent who could teleport at will was impossible amid obstacles; when he threw his next dagger, his target was no longer Schiller—but the car's fuel tank.

"Pssss—pssss!" Sparks flew; Schiller retreated swiftly—then came a loud "Boom!" His car erupted into flames.

After debris scattered and the fire slowly died, Schiller's entire luggage and his brand-new car—bought only days ago, driven only once—remained as charred ruins.