Nyarlathotep got a fishbone stuck in his throat.
This sounds ridiculous and very impolite, especially since Nyarlathotep is in its original form.
However, if there were a hospital for treating Outer Gods within the Cthulhu Mythos, they could only describe this symptom as getting a fishbone stuck.
This fishbone was Shiller.
Theoretically, no one should be able to come into contact with the physical entity of an Outer God; they probably don't even have anything such as a physical form. To use comic book theory, each of them is an infinite universe–a definition even more abstract than things like the OAA. It's akin to saying you can't physically strike a mathematical formula.
But then again, a mathematical formula is a formula within mathematics, but if you build something using this mathematical formula, then that something has a physical form, and you can't say it's no longer a mathematical formula.
Nyarlathotep's situation is largely the same. If he doesn't enter the comic book universe, he remains forever indescribable, but the DC Universe doesn't operate by those rules. All the deities here have a certain physical form, which is why you can witness the epic scenes of gods swinging planets at each other.
So, for Nyarlathotep to exist here, he had to create a physical form for himself. Lu Xun once said that as long as you have a throat, there will come a day when you get a fishbone stuck in it.
Nyarlathotep changed his file format to enter DC, so of course, he acquired the same kind of physical body as the abstract deities here. He was always lurking beneath the Wayne Hotel.
However, his script definitely didn't include the part about Shiller falling onto him.
As the saying goes, every jolly person is a fisherman, but not every Fishing Island loves to eat fish. Many enjoy the process of fishing, and Nyarlathotep is no exception.
He doesn't inherently have the habit of eating fish, barely kills people deliberately, and doesn't engage in any mass slaughter. At most, he accidentally plays people to death, similar to not handling a fish well during fishing, causing it to die upon impact.
Today was an extraordinary anomaly, as a fish flew directly into his mouth. Ironically, his vast maw capable of swallowing everything just couldn't grind down such a small fishbone, allowing it to get stuck in his throat.
When Nyarlathotep realized he couldn't remove the fishbone, he knew there was trouble.
But when he found out, after getting the fishbone stuck, he was also trapped by this cavern, the event took an even stranger turn.
Then he discovered it wasn't that he was stuck, but rather Shiller was stuck, although he had no idea where this cavern, several thousand kilometers in diameter, was blocking Shiller. The situation was like a fishbone going through the throat and pinning someone against the wall.
Nyarlathotep was nailed down by this fishbone.
Guessing it was about time, Greed arrived with the Gray mist.
The way the Bishop acquired this body was the same way they showed up. Although there was an issue with the hotel, the cosmos wasn't sealed off, so entry wasn't difficult.
So, what did the two of them come for?
The answer is quite simple. Shiller might be unscrupulous, but he's definitely not a quack.
Although a psychologist can't remove a fishbone, he can comfort you while you're stuck with it and charge by the hour. Don't worry about the cost for now, the comforting effect is definitely on point.
Shiller and Gray Mist spread out a picnic blanket on the edge of a cliff, laid out a bunch of chips, cheese, and fruits. Shiller, in a good mood, even poured a cup of Mad Liquor for each of them, and the two started drinking there on the cliffside.
Of course, Nyarlathotep was down below trying all sorts of ways to remove the fishbone, but in reality, if he had any way to do it, he would have removed it long ago. Now he's just striking poses here, increasing the laughter.
Before long, a pitch-black figure came up.
"What exactly is going on here?" the avatar of darkness, an incarnation of Nyarlathotep, asked.
"Don't get me wrong, it's not your problem. Someone else is the unlucky one," Shiller said. "If it were a zombie-themed game, he would meet a tyrant right outside his door, or in a shipwreck game, he'd step right into a great white shark's mouth as he steps out."
"So in your scenario, what's worse than falling directly on you? That would, of course, be not only falling on you but also getting stuck with you. If you can't overcome his misfortune, your best choice is to accept it."
Nyarlathotep was at a loss for words, not knowing whether he could accept such an absurd claim or not.
But he's no less an Outer God, he's seen plenty of absurdities in the world, so he had to say, "Can I understand it as he's bearing some sort of curse? A curse that even I can't lift?"
"This is not a curse," Shiller said. "This is a great blessing, something others can't even beg for, and here it is, nailed right here for you."
"What do you want?" Nyarlathotep seemed to know the procedure even better than Shiller, or it might be said that he is the one amongst the Outer Gods who is closest to the human conception of a devil—evil and cunning, quick to bargain to gain an advantage for himself.
"No rush," Shiller said.
Gray Mist had his fill and soon drifted off. No one knew what he was up to, but it didn't take long for everyone to gather.
Cobblepot, Jerome, Jerome, Gordon, and a confused-looking Peter holding a pot of Hallucinogenic Liquid.
Gray Mist gestured for them to place the metals on the ground, and soon, five metals were laid out in order. A flash of light, and a portal was opened.
A figure emerged from the dark passage.
Upon seeing the person approaching, Shiller greeted him enthusiastically, slinging an arm around his shoulder, and said, "Hey, Mad Laugh, didn't you say you were retreating to write? What are you doing here?"
"Now, I have to say, working in isolation won't do. I've come across a great script recently. The writer is really something, a renowned playwright in the cosmos. In our business, while talent is important, connections are indispensable. If you don't know big directors, no matter how good your script is, it can't be turned into something effective!"
"Come on, let me introduce you, the one in the pit is called Nyarlathotep. You might have heard of him from Barbados. He is known as the God of Thousand Faces, the mastermind of universal intrigue. It's said there's no one he can't deceive, no plot he can't direct."
"His works 'God of Thousand Faces' and 'Crawling Chaos' are blockbuster hits across the cosmos, and today, he's crafted another great play. I've been observing the entire process, and it was absolutely fascinating. It might just give your adapted 'Star Core Rescue' a run for its money."
"Ah, right, the release dates for these two films even coincidentally clash. What rare fate! Let me drink to that with both of you!"
Mad Laugh also half-willingly walked to the edge of the cliff, curious to see what this self-proclaimed master of the cosmic conspiracy was really like.
But as soon as he got a little close to the edge, Shiller kicked him off the cliff.
The moment Mad Laugh made contact with the true form of Nyarlathotep, Nyarla exploded on the spot.
No exaggeration, Nyarla just burst open, and all the masks rained down like scattered blooms, ejected straight from the huge cavern, taking the entire hotel aloft as well.
Everyone standing at the edge of the cliff was dumbfounded as they watched the giant hole above their heads, and what was even more absurd was that this massive torrent broke through the dense clouds, showering light onto the dark city below.
Peter, witnessing the sudden downpour of masks, stepped back twice and murmured in front of Shiller, "No wonder..."
"What's up?"
"Didn't you see the photos I sent you?"
Shiller actually hadn't seen them, because their accounts were not shared. At this time, Gray Mist went down to retrieve Sophop, who forwarded the information to Shiller.
It was then that Shiller saw Peter's photo taken in a park not far from the hotel, and in the photo, Gotham was sunny. Even more bizarre was the giant statue erected in the center of the park square, which was not of Batman or Owl, but a conglomerate of a thousand masks.
Engraved beneath the sculpture was "The Great God of Thousand Faces and Myriad Forms — The Great Savior of Gotham, Our Beloved Lord Forever."
"What the heck?!!"
Another voice emerged from the cave below, and Shiller looked down to find Little Bruce. No wonder he had sent out a distress signal; being caught by Nyarla itself was quite the ordeal.
Little Bruce stepped out but then shrank back, not daring to step into the sunlight and instead extended a tentacle to poke at it before swiftly retracting it.
Gray Mist took a few people and flew out, discovering that because the earlier torrent had sprayed so high, all the masks were now dropping like rain, seeming to herald a storm of masks.
What was even more miraculous was that all buildings touched by the masks shed a layer of dark ash, buildings long tainted by the power of darkness were returning to their original state, making it clear that such a secondary power of darkness was no match for Nyarla herself.
Where the masks landed, the sky turned blue, the water clear, the trees grew tall and strong, the flowers brightened, and even the lawns stopped being patchy.
The Gothamites even began to pray.
"You can't play the Evil God anymore," Jerome said to Little Bruce with a sneer, "I'm off to rebuild Gotham Cathedral, to sculpt a statue for my lord Nyarlathotep. Are you coming?"
Little Bruce looked terribly unhappy.
Jerome left with a burst of mad laughter.
"Don't listen to him, he's just crazy," Jerome Jr. whispered to Little Bruce, "I hate this sunlight too, let's go back together."
Little Bruce walked away disdainfully.
In Shiller's Tower of Thought, Arrogant and Superego stood before the railing of the atrium, with Arrogant asking, "Do you think he's gone to see that person again?"
"I'm afraid so. Greed is the type to not rest until he's completely stripped someone who owes him a favor," Superego replied.
"In that case, we didn't do so badly ourselves," Arrogant nodded and said.
"Are you serious?" Superego turned to Arrogant and said, "Alright, I know you're biased towards him, but he got us into fawning over those agents for years, and he even erased memories, which is unforgivable."
"It's all in the past," Arrogant said, "How do you think he's going to fleece Nyarla?"
"Isn't him exploding into pieces enough?"
Arrogant shook his head and said with a smile, "As you said, he's someone who won't rest until he has completely fleeced the other."
No sooner had his words faded than the great door to the High Tower was opened, and Shiller walked in with a very displeased looking Black manager.
"From now on you'll be the ambassador of Nyarlathotep stationed with Shiller. Although you claim to be the God of Thousand Faces, I'm not far behind. Come, first take a tour of the headquarters..."
"This is the main corporation, and we're currently setting up various branches outside. You might want to look at the subsidiaries first before deciding which one to join..."
"Oh, right, there's another of your kind here. You claim to be the God of Thousand Faces, while that one claims to be the Moon Phase God. Come, Khonsu, meet your new colleague..."
Upstairs, Superego covered his face and said, "I knew he had a collecting mania for these multifaceted characters..."
"I advocate the free development of hobbies," Arrogant said.
"But you can't bring just anything back to the High Tower!" Superego raised his voice and then, as if suddenly remembering something, said, "How could I forget, you also have a Batman collecting mania!"
"I don't," Arrogant turned and walked to his room.
"Then stop having them send mail here."
"Then you wait for them to come in person," Arrogant replied.
Superego sighed deeply and said softly, "When will I ever become a true empty nester."