Chapter 1687: Bruce Wayne and the Secret Chamber (Part Thirteen) (Patreon)

In DC World With Marvel Chat Group : Table of Content/Chapter List

XXX-----XXX-----XXX-----XXX

When Harley forcefully pushed herself backward, she realized there was nothing behind her.

However, all three of them clearly heard that voice. It carried a chilling coldness, faintly mingled with the sound of flutes in the far northern regions. As it faded, the dark clouds hanging over the Himalayas finally dissipated, revealing a deeper, more terrifying, yet breathtaking starry sky.

"I heard it..." Little Bruce, barefoot, walked to the door and pushed open the window facing the corridor. He shouted into the empty valley, "I see you, I know your name. Answer my call—from that immense, pitch-black room, from your Ebony Palace..."

In the next second, Little Bruce felt himself being thrown to the ground, the world spinning around him. Barry clutched his shoulders tightly, while Harley stood beside him, expressionless. Barry frantically shook Bruce and yelled, "Wake up! Bruce! You almost jumped out of the corridor window! What the hell is wrong with you?"

"He's been bewitched," Harley said coldly, followed by a soft sigh. "Just like those students who attacked the school. He was enchanted by that monster we just heard."

"He's not a monster," Little Bruce, lying on the floor, looked up at the ceiling with dazed eyes and said, "He's a priest dancing and singing outside the Dark Great Chamber—blind, mute, and foolish..."

"The Dark Great Chamber?" Barry keenly caught a crucial phrase. His eyes and mouth widened in shock as he raised his voice: "'The door to the Secret Chamber has opened, and those who oppose the Inheritors, beware!'??"

Barry stared at Little Bruce Wayne, while Harley clutched a piece of paper in her hand, silently thinking, So, that's why you had me write that phrase on the wall? Who exactly dwells within that so-called Secret Chamber, accompanied by the piercing shrieks of flutes and the booming of drums, surrounded by dancing souls of countless gods?

The gray maelstrom let out a sigh.

"Answer me," Harley repeated.

"The truth... demands a price."

"What do you want?"

"Your friend Bruce Wayne responded to the Call of the Stars. One of the Three Pillar Gods, Nyarlathotep, left an ancient mark on him, allowing him a glimpse into a corner of that mysterious Palace. You must defeat him and send this terrifying Outer God back to his Palace."

"Who is Nyarlathotep?"

"Go fetch your book; it holds all his secrets... and ours."

Though Nyarlathotep did not appear on the screen, everyone could see from Little Bruce’s actions and words that some mysterious entity had influenced him.

The words in the Book of the Dead and the explanation in Schiller’s office appeared almost simultaneously.

"In the depths of the Stars, there exist mysterious beings known as the Outer Gods. They refer to themselves as the Fein Gods. They dance and sing around an enormous dark room, accompanied by flutes and drums, in a frenzy of ecstasy that conceals countless horrors unknown to humanity..."

"Nyarlathotep, the 'Nameless Mist' and the 'Chaos within Chaos,' resides in the Ebony Palace of the far north, with flutists playing for him. Among the Outer Gods, he is almost the only one humans can somewhat understand—acting with purpose, unlike the other blind and insane deities. He resembles the demons of human myth, tempting mortals into ruin..."

"No wonder," Zatanna said, stroking her chin thoughtfully. "Like you mentioned, the attackers in those campus incidents weren’t entirely insane. Their minds weren’t completely shattered; they even had the clarity to control their magic. They were likely deceived—specifically, targeted and deceived."

"We were also deceived once," Bruce shook his head slightly. "Remember the tentacles behind Jennifer Mavi? It's all about perception. I think that’s the key characteristic of this God System."

"If only you were this perceptive in psychology, your professor would be thrilled," Schiller said with a smile. "But you're right. Humanity’s understanding of them is their greatest influence on us."

"Once humans truly perceive them, it’s inevitable that they will be affected. The majority of the Outer Gods have no interest in whether humans recognize them or not. Like stars hanging in the sky, they will exist eternally, regardless of whether humans see them."

X

"But Nyarlathotep is an exception. He enjoys disguising himself deliberately, allowing humans to inadvertently recognize one of his aspects, which then ensnares them into acting on his behalf."

"Does he need human faith?"

"Absolutely not," Schiller shook his head. "But understand this: not everyone needs something in return for their actions. Some simply want to watch the world burn."

Instantly, everyone’s eyes were locked on Schiller.

Yet Schiller seemed not the least bit ashamed; instead, he savored the attention. Spreading his arms like an artist showcasing his masterpiece, he declared, "To drive the world mad, to let the art of tragedy capture the spotlight, and to see it burn brighter because of your existence—is a joy beyond words."

"For Nyarlathotep, he can do even more. In every intelligent and rational species, he ignites his own flame of tragic artistry, letting it burn more intensely."

"But what he does is far from noble," Pamela retorted, folding her arms in displeasure. "Distorting students' minds, driving them to madness and violence—how is that art? It’s nothing more than a hollow spectacle!"

"And what would you suggest, Miss Pamela?" Schiller, unperturbed by the interruption, narrowed his eyes with a curious smile.

"He should seek out those students with genuine stories," Pamela’s tone gradually softened as her eyes took on a faraway look. "I can tell that many of them have endured unimaginable tragedies even before setting foot on this so-called pilgrimage."

Her voice grew deeper as if she was speaking from another world. "Within those tragic stories, they’ve developed obsessions. These obsessions don’t require any cognitive distortion—just a bit of guidance, and they become the perfect kindling for the fires of madness."

Harley’s notes rapidly filled the second page of the Book of the Dead, right beneath the entries on Nyarlathotep. In elegant handwriting, she wrote:

"The impoverished will stop at nothing to gain wealth; the lonely will give everything for companionship; those who have lost something will break all rules to reclaim it. Even those with excess, when at the end of their rope, will cast it all aside—this is the best way to drive someone mad. It has nothing to do with greatness or magic; it’s the madness that can be obtained that matters most."

“Then prove yourself to him. I will be watching you.”

“That’s enough.”

As Harley completed the final flourish of the last word, she set her pen down and closed the book without the slightest hesitation. Helen was standing right behind her.

“You opened it.”

“Not just that.”

When Harley turned around, her brown irises darkened, and a web of gray-blue tendrils emerged from her pupils.

“I made a pact with him. And not just him—but them.”

“You’re absolutely insane, Harley Quinn!” Helen stepped forward, staring intently into Harley’s eyes. “Do you even realize what you’ve done? Those are mysterious entities that even the Ancient One might not be able to handle! And you… you even made a pact with Chthon, of all beings! He’s far from trustworthy!”

“He’s nothing but a weakling.”

Helen was momentarily speechless. She took a deep breath, placed her hands on her hips, and fixed her gaze on the book lying beside Harley. She hurried over to the table and demanded, “Alright, then tell me what’s the deal with this book, and how it’s connected to the series of attacks on campus…”

Meanwhile, it was Barry's turn to dream.

In his dream, he saw countless bubbles. An awareness whispered to him that each bubble was a space, but they were shattering one after another due to countless time loops and spatial traversals.

“Can you feel this magnificent power?” a voice asked.

“All I sense is cruelty,” Barry instinctively replied.

“That’s not cruelty. The infinite versions of me across spaces contribute their power to me, allowing me to achieve even greater things. You should join me.”

“You’re mistaken. I don’t even know who you are.”

“Yet you possess a certain gift.”

“I’m just an ordinary person.”

“Is that what they call someone who crosses spaces?”

Suddenly, the dream shifted. Barry found himself adrift in the vast cosmos, with nothing beneath his feet but... a book. A massive book floated in space, forming solid ground beneath him. The pages were inscribed with mysterious characters, but Barry couldn't understand any of them. He could only sense that this book, radiating a sinister red glow, was the only thing keeping him from falling.

“Rustle, rustle.”

An elegantly set afternoon tea table, two Victorian-style armchairs, and a fine porcelain tea set with steaming hot tea appeared in the center of the book’s pages. Barry realized he was now seated in one of the chairs, and as the other chair swiveled around, he gasped.

“Professor Strange?!”

“Oh? You’ve already met the version of me from that space? Under what circumstances? Was it at that ridiculous magic college?” The gray-skinned Strange sneered as he spoke.

Barry pressed himself against the soft leather backrest, swallowing hard. “You’re not Professor Strange! Who are you? What do you want with me?”

“Don’t be so nervous, child. This is merely your dream, and I just happened to wander into it.”

“Happened to?!”

“Alright, maybe it wasn’t entirely by chance.” The peculiar Strange poured himself a cup of tea from the teapot, lifting the cup delicately with a finger to take a sip before continuing. “Your space is rather peculiar. It seems to be at the very edges of my dream-walking range, which means it’s quite distant. But that also suggests that it might contain even greater power. Will you bring me this secret?”

“Do I look like I’m willing?!”

Barry seemed to explode with sudden fury. Straightening his back, he roared at the Strange across from him like an enraged lion: “I just came here with my acceptance letter to start school! I thought I would meet friendly teachers and classmates, learn what I needed for my future, maybe even experience a bit of magic!”

“But what am I doing now?! I’m stuck in a room six thousand meters above sea level, listening to a madman rant about some Dark Great Chamber! People are constantly getting attacked on campus, and it looks like the only two people I know are about to duel each other!”

Barry clutched his hair in frustration, on the verge of a breakdown.

“And now, are you going to tell me you want to make a pact with me, and have me kill them all?!”

“Uh, I...”

“Okay, fine! I’ll sign!”

[Read at www.patreon.com/shanefreak, and thanks for the invaluable support!]

XXX-----XXX-----XXX-----XXX

Next Chapter =>Chapter 1688: Bruce Wayne and the Secret Chamber (Part 14)