"If you're so knowledgeable, why not enlighten us?" Jerome sneered, then said, "It's not like we're short on time right now."
"Things have come this far, there's basically no turning back," Shiller shook his head and said, "I can only offer hindsight. Had you come to me ten years earlier, things might not have progressed to this state."
"Where should I even begin," Shiller actually revealed a look of distress, he said, "I'm not picking on where your operation was not standard, rather I'm reminiscing if there was any part of the operation that was standard."
"First off, have you done any historical research?"
"What?" Cobblepot asked with a bit of surprise.
"Have you investigated the historical background of this great dark entity? When did he first appear? What did he do when he appeared? Which humans has he interacted with? How many times has he revealed himself in history, and what impact did he make? How many believers does he have? Where are they now scattered?"
As Shiller fully expected, everyone was clueless. Jerome was slightly better off; at least he managed to bring up something about the Judas Tribe, but he hadn't uncovered the relationship with the earlier Bat Tribe and Bird Tribe.
Shiller could only say, "Since you've discovered the Judas Tribe, you should continue looking into the past."
"What's the point of that?"
"We need to find the correct symbolism, which is very, very, very important in the mystic world; you might say if this part is wrong, then everything that follows will be wrong."
"Let me give you a simple example," Shiller extended One Hand and said, "Imagine someone built a door to have you summon him over, meaning it requires someone to open this door. Considering the success rate, obviously the more keys made, the better, because the more people who hold keys, the greater the chance the door will be opened."
"But what if there's only one key that matches this door? Does that mean the creator of the door doesn't want to improve the success rate? It's simply because he can only create one lock and one key. If he had the ability to cast a wider net and catch more fish, he would certainly do it."
"Gods are not without rules, they also must follow certain energy systems to operate. If they create a door and pair it with only one key, they have their reasons. You don't understand who holds the key, so don't delude yourself into thinking you can poke open the lock with a carrot."
Shiller sighed deeply, paused for a moment, and then continued, "What you're doing now is like thinking that 1+1 can equal 3, yet planning to take such a concept to work on complex functions."
"Before you start poking the keyhole, you haven't even confirmed who is the key; relying solely on little bits of memory obtained from the cultists, you're blindly fumbling around. This is the drawback of not learning from history."
"In the mystic world, that so-called great dark entity of yours is no secret. His name is Barbados, known as the Dark Dragon, a member of the Dark Council."
"In Ancient Times, the Bat Tribe always revered Barbados, so they also called him the Bat God. He lay dormant in the dark universe, aiming to open a passage to the Light Universe. The key that matches the door he made is 'bat,' to be precise, Batman."
"Bruce Wayne is Batman, but today, everyone has arrived except for Batman. Believe it or not, if you throw all your stuff into the pool now, there won't be any reaction, because the one lying in the pool is not Batman, not even Spider Man. The carrier of the key is wrong; no matter how much electricity you charge into the lock, it's useless."
"Let's talk about metals. I won't even say which one, the alarm clock or the thing in Gordon's head, is real. Just by looking at the stuff you've taken out now, most of it isn't pure enough."
"The thing you dug out of Alfred's head should be N-metal, but it looks like you've cut it off some spaceship. The ship's hull uses an N-metal alloy, while the pure N-metal is made into weapons. Even if you can't get the pure stuff, at least refine what you have, right? You really plan to use it as it is?"
"And that green Dionysus Factor, I don't know if you became the Joker because of this stuff, or if it's only extractable because you're already in the Joker's bloodline. Although you've extracted it this time, it's not supposed to be extracted; you need to find its source. Using the raw liquid for extraction will destroy its properties."
"Then there's that red metal, which I don't even want to talk about. It's literally called 'Bat Gold,' and while you got the extraction right this time, it's a pity that it has to react with Batman's blood to have any effect. Without Batman's blood, it's nothing."
"Now let's talk about what's in this pool," Shiller looked at the pool where Peter was soaking and said, "This should be Amber Gold, which is the metal that's mixed into Gotham's buildings."
"Originally, this stuff could have been useful, but you threw so many cultists' bodies in there, and now you're thinking about whether my blood will contaminate the pool. Isn't that a bit late?"
"What you've done is like adding two extra catalysts to a chemical experiment, then cluelessly saying, 'I didn't do anything, why did it explode?' With this stuff, a miss is as good as a mile."
"I'm really curious what you could possibly summon by poking the keyhole with a carrot, so stop dawdling and get on with the process."
Shiller didn't want to say more; he sat hugging his knees, watching the pool. He was genuinely interested to see what these chemistry prodigies could summon with this makeshift promethium ritual.
It definitely wouldn't be Barbados; Barbados is trapped and can't come out, and it's unlikely to be Mad Laugh either, since Mad Laugh is too busy editing movies to come.
The most likely is Nya, after all. Nya loves butting in, waiting to see the panicked expressions of the human race. But if Nya was really summoned by this stuff, Shiller would be the first to mock him to his face.
This was the doing of Barbados's followers, and they not only failed but botched it. If Nya really showed up, Shiller decided to give him a nickname: Gousheng."
The others looked at each other, having no better plan. This was their twenty years and two generations in the making; they couldn't just give it up because of some minor setbacks.
What left Shiller agape was that they couldn't decide which metal was the final type of promethium metal, so they prepared to throw both types in.
Shiller quickly moved a bit farther away; he didn't want to be splashed with blood from their death wish.
In the end, they chose to throw all the metals into the pool.
And believe it or not, maybe fools do have their own luck. After all the metals were thrown into the pool, the pool began to emit a fierce glow.
The ceiling above was no longer the dark ceiling of God's Temple but gradually began to show a piece of sky filled with stars. Looking at that somewhat familiar starscape, Shiller suddenly had a bad hunch.
The room filled with a thick fog.
The moment Shiller saw the endless thick fog appear, he had only one thought: oh no, Gousheng is me!
Endless gray mist appeared among the stars, within it churned countless terrifying illusions that could make one crumble at a single glance. Dense eyes appeared and disappeared, and just by looking once, everyone's eyes began to bleed tears.
They screamed miserably and knelt to the ground.
The fog gave no response. After a long time, it finally let out a voice laden with heavy doubt, "Hmmm???"
Great, The Nameless Fog will now be dubbed Gousheng, Shiller thought with a mix of crying and laughter in his heart. How on earth was Gray mist summoned here??!
At that moment, Shiller heard the familiar voice of Gray mist.
"No, what's going on? I was having a meal in the Animal Universe."
"I was just about to ask you the same thing. Why did you respond to the summoning?" asked Shiller.
"Because he was about to die." Although Gray mist had no face, Shiller could clearly sense his gaze falling on Peter in the pool. "Didn't you say to call me over to fish him out if this kid was about to die? What killed him?"
"If I said it was a chemical experiment accident, would you believe that?"
"Stop joking, he's a chemist himself."
"Then I guess I have to introduce you to this brilliant MIT student. Oh, he studied physics, that explains it."
"So what do we do now?" Gray mist asked. "I can sense a very troublesome guy heading this way."
"Nya?"
"That Black Devil isn't quite troublesome, just a bit annoying. I'm referring to someone who's really troublesome for you."
"It's not Bruce, is it? Has he been completely controlled by Nya?"
"It's Bruce, but..."
Before Gray mist could finish, suddenly a blinding light shone in the center of God's Temple, dazzling everyone and knocking them over. In the hazy vision, they saw countless white wings.
"Who is... summoning the great Barbados... wait, why is it so bright?! Damn it, I got the skin wrong! Wait a second..."
With a swoosh, the bright light disappeared as if it had never been there. After a few seconds, an overwhelming power of darkness filled the entire room.
"Who is... summoning the great Barbados..."
Shiller looked up and, upon seeing a pair of bat wings, he no longer wanted to look up, but as expected, he saw those blue eyes.
Fortunately, this guy knew how to cover up, having wrapped himself in darkness like a coal ball, his face unseen, or else it would give the game away.
Those blue eyes turned towards him.
There was a clear pause when they saw Shiller. Shiller didn't think they saw through his disguise, but then again, Sophop was no ordinary person either.
Clearing his throat, Shiller spoke, "I summoned you."
"What is your bidding..."
"Help me kill the Evil God in this city."
"Sorry, can't kill him."
"Then drive him away."
"That, I can do. Name your price."
"I don't mean just for a moment but to keep him away forever."
"Can't do that either. His progeny are here."
Shiller understood, Little Bruce indeed had Nya's bloodline; this was going to be difficult. They were father and son, after all; a complete severance was out of the question.
"Then bundle them both out of here."
"Too heavy, can't throw them out."
Shiller knew he meant that Little Bruce himself was a Gothamite and Batman at that. You can't throw Batman out of his own universe and forbid him from returning; that's impossible.
Shiller took out Martha and Thomas's diaries from his bosom and tossed them into the dark energy, then said, "Just give him these, he'll understand after reading them."
The black fog gradually dissipated, but the gray Fog remained in place, rubbing against Shiller and hungrily humming for the liquor in the pool.
"First get him out," Shiller whispered, then added, "This stuff really is a treasure, wasn't a waste to delay so long and let him soak a bit more."
Gray mist fished Peter out, then himself gulped down every last drop from the pool, letting out a satisfied burp and vanished contentedly.
Peter rose from the ground somewhat dazed. In one quick movement, he slammed into the ceiling.
"What's going on? Why am I...?" Peter, who fell to the ground, clutched his head, feeling dizzy and disoriented.
"Congratulations, Spider Man, I mean, you might need to change your name to Metal Man now." Shiller said, looking at Peter. "Looks like you might have to get used to a new superpower again."