Chereads / Days as a Spiritual Mentor in American Comics / Chapter 74 - Chapter 57 Gotham Night Bell (Part 2)_1

Chapter 74 - Chapter 57 Gotham Night Bell (Part 2)_1

In a pitch-black alley, weak reflections from an armour danced with a denser, deeper fog.

Suddenly, the grey mist condensed into a silhouette, standing at the alley's end. The sound of the armour's friction ceased. Heavy footsteps echoed across puddles that hadn't yet dried upon the ground, the echoes served as a portent of death.

"Deathstroke?"

"Indeed, it's your death knell."

As his voice dropped, a flash of a blade, Shiller disappeared in an instant, reappearing behind the silhouette.

"Who hired you?"

You don't need to know.

"You seem quite confident in your skills."

Shiller dodged two darts, then turned to Deathstroke and said,

"You shouldn't kill me."

"I can kill anyone, as long as the price is right."

Shiller extended his hand, igniting a cluster of flames.

"Regardless of who your employer is, their price isn't right."

Deathstroke was silent for less than a second, then directly left.

"Indeed, goodbye."

"How would you deal with an employer who deceives you?"

"It depends."

"Kill him, I'll pay."

"You don't have that much money."

"World's richest man picks up the tab."

"Goodbye."

Shiller looked at the armour-clad figure disappearing at the end of Gotham streets within a few breaths, thinking that enemy certainly has a bit of a knack, being able to hire Deathstroke to kill him.

Several consecutive flashes had drained a lot of Shiller's energy. With such a deep alley, no vehicle could drive in, so he decided to walk back slowly. Once he returns to the cathedral, he would call for a car to pick him up.

He turned out of an alley onto the main street, then turned back, noticing some disturbances far down the road.

At that moment, Batman was standing in an incredibly dilapidated, dark, and narrow room.

The conditions were terrible, Batman had never entered such an uncomfortable room in his life.

It was a third-floor apartment, the windows were nailed shut, all outer layers of the walls were peeled off, the room was extremely damp, the floor was made of slick stone bricks, all the furniture was out of place while the rest of the room was filled with various types of garbage.

The room's occupant glimpsed at Batman, this uninvited guest. He was taken aback for a moment, then lowered his head, muttered a few unclear words to himself, hunched over as he turned and picked up a salt shaker, attempting to pass it to Batman.

Batman took the salt shaker. It was empty. Then the man waved seeming to shoo him away.

He was a dried-up, hunchbacked old man, with very dark skin, his eyes deeply sunken into his sockets, he dragged his feet as he walked, constantly muttering strings of curses under his breath.

It seemed a neighbour from downstairs had heard the noise. Sticking his head out from the bottom of the stairs, he asked, "Why are you looking for this old geezer? Who are you to him?"

"What's wrong with him?"

"What else could it be? Can't you tell? He's got dementia and doesn't recognize anyone. Even if you know him, he wouldn't know you."

From his angle, the neighbour couldn't make out Batman's appearance, only a vague shadow. He said, "This old fellow can't afford his rent. Each time the landlord comes around, he gives them a salt shaker. Perhaps in his time, salt shakers were considered valuable, but the shaker's been empty for a long time now."

"Luckily, it seems his landlord died at the hands of the mob. The attic isn't worth much. They'd end up having to collect the body if they killed him, so he's lived until now."

"Whoever you are, it's probably best if you stay out of it. He only survives by eating the bits of garbage tossed down from upstairs. But they moved out a few days ago. I doubt he'll live much longer."

Once he was finished speaking, there was a loud "bang" from below. The neighbour had shut his door.

Batman was holding a salt shaker, watching the hunched old man sit down on a chair, staring silently at the table, a trickle of saliva rolling from the corner of his mouth.

He looked at Louis's hands, they were very rough, almost all the knuckles were somewhat twisted due to years of heavy lifting, the dried veins on his palm distinctly protruding.

"Are you Louis?"

Besides Batman's own voice, there was no answer.

"Do you remember Thomas Wayne? Do you remember Martha?"

Batman felt his voice trembling.

A surge of extreme anger rose from Batman's chest, causing him to squeeze the salt shaker until it creaked.

His enemy did not remember all the innocent people he had hurt, he just completely forgot all his sins.

He was not being punished for his sins, but it spared him of his inner guilt, Batman thought.

He asked Louis over and over again:

"Why don't you remember anything?! Do you really not remember the Wayne surname?! What about Edward? Falcone?!"

Just as Batman mentioned the surname Falcone, the elderly Louis suddenly let out a strange scream. Him opening his mouth wide made his unused jaw bones creak with a crackling sound.

He fell trembling from the chair, screaming non-stop, picking up everything nearby to throw at Batman, while tears, snot, and saliva flowed down his face.

Batman saw endless fear on his face.

Batman thought that Falcone hadn't lied to him. When he killed Rafe, he indeed scared a lot of people.

That included Louis.

Shiller walked to the middle of an alley, looking up, only one room on the third floor was lit, and a shadow with pointy ears was visible inside the room.

He waited at the bottom of the building for a while, and saw Batman coming out. Batman was somewhat surprised to see Shiller, but his mind was a bit sluggish.

Shiller looked at Batman, noticed he wasn't injured, and saw no signs of a fight on him.

Then his gaze fell on the salt shaker in Batman's hand.

Shiller didn't know what it was, but evidently, Batman, who was feeling complicated, needed to vent. Therefore, before Shiller could even ask, Batman told the whole story.

As they were talking and walking, they passed by the front of the cathedral, where dawn was near. Batman, while holding that salt shaker, said:

"He doesn't remember any of this."

When Batman said this, he was no longer angry, but his tone was filled with complex emotions.

"You said, he still remembers one person."

"Yes, he still remembers Falcone, why doesn't he remember Wayne, but remembers Falcone..."

Shiller sighed, looked into the distance, then said, "Because of fear, because fear is the deepest and most indelible scar etched into the human soul."

"He forgot everything, only remembering fear, is that it?" Batman asked.

At this moment, it's the darkest before dawn, the thick darkness was almost engulfing everything, all the buildings were shrouded in shadows, their shapes indiscernible.

Suddenly, what jarred Batman from his thoughts was the heavy bell sound from Gotham Cathedral, the dull bell sound echoed far, and the sound wave, like the darkness, penetrated everywhere. Even in the darkest and most shadowed alleyways, one could feel the tremor.

Batman thought, fear, fear.

If he could no longer take true revenge against the people and the things from that era, if the murderer that he was trying his utmost to catch, the person he wanted revenge on, had completely forgotten everything. His full-hearted anger and hatred had all been in vain.

Then at least he was reminded of one thing by Batman, that sometimes, what is more terrifying than death, is the haunting fear.

Since then, Batman thought, he would become a Dark Knight that brings endless fear to all the criminals in Gotham.

Many years ago, what accompanied his parents' death was the bat sweeping over the sky with numerous shadows, many years later, he would eventually bring the fear of the bat to all the criminals in this city.

Just like, the Gotham Night Bell that seeped into every street and every dark corner.

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