Days as a Spiritual Mentor in American Comics

"Do you believe what he said?" Shiller closed the room door, looking at Greed walking ahead of him.

Greed shook his head and said, "He doesn't seem like a good person, but are we any better?"

The blood on Shiller's body had almost dried, but the stench was still strong. Luckily, the Father's attire was black, so it didn't stand out too much.

"Should we head to the third floor?" Shiller asked.

"There must be something on the third floor." Greed stood at the stairwell, looking up, then he asked, "How are you feeling?"

"I'm fine," Shiller shook his head and said. He was indeed fine — apart from his mental health value not being too high, his blood volume hadn't decreased much, and his physical strength was still okay. He could handle another fight if needed.

Plus, his Soothing Soul skill had cooled down, ready to instantly restore his mental health value. Even if there were some kind of mental attack, it wouldn't pose a major problem.

As Greed walked up the stairs, he said, "Have you noticed it's getting more dangerous here?"

Shiller understood his insinuation. Since Arrogant had left, the game's difficulty had suddenly escalated. Whether it was the creepy underground river, the wildly growing reeds in the cavern, the five mad dogs in the lobby, or that man named Jeff, all were extremely dangerous.

If they dared to try fishing in that dark river, at least a couple of them were bound to get hurt. A moment's delay during the reed attack, and it wouldn't just be a case of Batman being seriously injured.

Those five dogs were even more outrageous. Shiller could say that none of his teammates standing now could have emerged unscathed if they had faced the hounds.

That man, Jeff, seemed quite cowardly, but he was clearly not as simple as he appeared. His leg was indeed bitten by a dog, but if he faced five at the same time and only got bitten once, managing to run to the second floor, it proved he was definitely skilled.

As for the third floor... Shiller looked at the dimly lit corridor, feeling that things were taking a dangerous turn.

The structure of the third floor was different from the second; it wasn't a circular atrium surrounded by rooms, but a corridor extended from one side of the atrium, leading to a window at the end.

After arriving here and not hearing any sounds, Greed and Shiller walked one after the other into the corridor. They had just stepped into the corridor when they heard a "clang."

It seemed like something metallic had fallen to the floor.

Greed also vaguely saw an object fall near the window ahead.

Shiller activated his Clairvoyance to scan the area but saw nothing. Greed, as fearless as ever, strode forward, but stopped as he reached down to pick up the object on the floor.

"What is it?" Shiller quickly walked over and asked.

Greed stood up with the object, not turning around but extending it over his shoulder to Shiller behind him.

Shiller's fingertips felt a chill. With the help of the faint light from the window, he saw it was a door number plate with "1913" written on it.

Greed turned around to exchange a glance with Shiller, but neither said a word. Shiller turned to look at the nearby door, but saw no place where a door number plate could be affixed.

It was as if the door plate had fallen out of thin air.

Greed took the door plate back. Shiller, standing by the window, could feel Greed's impatience. This guy was no detective; expecting him to solve puzzles was somewhat unrealistic.

As expected, Shiller picked up the nearby shotgun, kicked open the door to his left, and found nothing inside. Lowering the shotgun, its metal barrel reflected off an animal trap on the ground.

The trap was set open, clearly intentionally placed there. If one rushed in in poor lighting, they'd surely end up with a broken leg.

Shiller then moved to the second room, once again raising his gun and kicking at the door. The second room was also empty, which was not good news.

If the game's mastermind was still the Transcendent, there would have been no lack of combat. The eerie quiet now indicated that the game's orchestrator might be of another style.

Sure enough, a thudding knock came from behind Greed.

Greed turned around and approached the door where the sound originated, his shotgun at the ready, but when he reached the door, he kicked it open without hesitation.

It was actually a storage room.

Unlike the small warehouse downstairs stuffed with vegetables, this place had a far more complete assortment of goods. Greed's eyes lit up at the sight of two first aid kits on a shelf.

He signaled Shiller with his eyes. Shiller, holding a knife, stood behind him. Just as Greed was about to move forward, Shiller coughed.

Greed turned to look at him, then followed his gaze to the ground, where he noticed a very, very thin fishing line not far from his foot, almost invisible to the naked eye.

Following the line with his eyes, Shiller saw what seemed to be a hole in the wall beneath the shelf on the right.

Another trap? Who had set so many traps here?

Greed stepped over the fishing line and grabbed the two first aid kits. Shiller, by the door, appeared somewhat helpless. Such crafty tricks could fool most, but Greed was not included in that majority. Beyond the immediate benefits he could lay his hands on, he was oblivious to everything else.

Greed threw the first aid kits outside the door, found an empty canvas bag under the shelf, and began picking and choosing among the shelves as if he were shopping in a supermarket.

The warehouse had about a dozen rows of shelves, and Shiller hadn't ventured deep inside, but Greed showed no fear whatsoever, even tossing his gun to Shiller so he could free his hands to grab items.

He examined the goods on the shelves one by one, even comparing their production dates, picking and discarding until the canvas bag was almost full.

Suddenly, a "thunking" sound came from behind him; Greed, who was holding a can, turned around to see an easy-open can rolling past him.

Greed ignored it and continued to read the text on the can. After a while, another noise came from behind, but now Greed didn't even turn his head, crouching at the bottom of the shelf, reaching out to grab at the bag of flour inside.

He felt something dripping onto his forearm but still managed to drag out the bag of flour and began to check its production date.

Suddenly, he felt a breeze, but he remembered that the windows in the room were closed. He turned his head and saw the window at the end of the shelves he was in had opened.

A black crow perched itself on the windowsill.

Greed looked at the crow, and the crow looked back at him. Then suddenly, like an arrow leaving its bow, the crow flew straight at him from the windowsill.

Greed felt a gust of wind grazing his ear and heard a horrific screech; a bright kitchen knife struck the crow right in the head. Greed turned to see Shiller.

Shiller went over to inspect the crow, turned its fallen body over and, seeing the dense tumors on its abdomen, knew it must be a creature mutated by the influence of the anomaly.

He remembered something from Madeline's notes – unless absolutely necessary, monsters usually wouldn't possess too weak an animal, such as insects or small birds. While crows are indeed predators, they're not particularly strong.

However, animals within the anomaly's range might be influenced by the monsters; even if not possessed, they could harbor great malice toward humans just like monsters do, devising ways to attack humans.

But as Shiller looked away, the tumors vanished, leaving just an ordinary crow whose blood was now on his hands.

In that moment of distraction, Greed had disappeared.

The bag he had been carrying fell to the ground; the contents spilled out. Shiller reached for the bag's handle, turned it over, and then inside, he saw Greed's head.

Another blink, and the head was gone. Shiller reached in to take out the can and then saw the spokesperson grinning on the can wink at him before the head suddenly rolled off.

Shiller stood still, holding the can, and through the gap in the shelves saw Greed's figure exiting the room, then suddenly heard a scream from the adjacent room.

Turning the can in his hand, Shiller began to scrutinize the ingredient list and production date.

He heard the sound of rapid breathing near his ear, hard to pinpoint, and again looked up toward the window. The light shone on his face, casting a shadow behind him.

He turned 180 degrees, his back fully to the window, where Greed should have been, but now there was nothing.

Shiller activated his clairvoyance.

In an instant, he saw the canvas bag's handle loop around Greed's neck, right in front of him, pulling Greed up into mid-air as if he were being hung, struggling and gasping for air.

Shiller turned back again.

He threw away the can and picked up the crow; there was nothing unusual about the crow, no tumors on its stomach, but Shiller still held the crow's body in one hand and lifted the kitchen knife with the other.

With a "thud," blood from his own palm flowed down. Turning around, he found Greed looking at him in surprise; there was no crow in his hand, the knife had pierced his own palm, and blood was dripping onto the floor.

Shiller withdrew the knife, looking at his bleeding palm, then said to Greed, "The rules of the illusion require a price to be paid; you'd better not be so stingy."

"You encountered an illusion?" asked Greed.

Shiller nodded, looking at the crow's body still lying at his feet, not picked up yet. He wasn't sure if it was because he touched the animal's corpse or because he had killed an animal.

Suddenly, Greed also paused. Shiller thought he might have fallen into an illusion as well. Two seconds later, Greed returned to normal, his expression complicated as he said, "Do you know what I saw?"

"What?"

"In my illusion, there was a monster on you."

Shiller was not surprised. He asked, "A Wandering spirit? What did it look like?"

Greed shook his head and said, "The key is, if the illusion can make us see a monster on each other, whether real or not, we have a reason to attack each other."

"Hunters aren't that stupid," Shiller said.

"But a hunter gravely wounded," Greed replied, picking up the bag. "Whether it's painter, lawyer, or doctor, they all have plenty of reasons to claim his life; the monster is just their excuse to make a move."

Shiller understood his point. Within the entire team, only the Primary Universe Batman was a genuinely good person; the rest, whether it be Bruce, Night Owl, or the two Jokers, were not to be trusted.

Plus, the Wandering spirit, whose host was unknown, loomed dangerously close to claiming the life of Primary Universe Batman.

"I tend to think the illusion will make the already weakened hunter act irrationally," Greed said as they walked outside together. "After all, he's never seen this trick before; maybe he's unprepared?"

But Shiller shook his head; Batman was not that fragile, and more importantly, everyone had secrets.