Chapter 3210: The Detective Will Die (24)

Returning to the staircase, Shiller glanced upstairs, Greed following closely behind him as if the prior awkwardness was nothing to be concerned about, two Jokers trailing him, with Bruce bringing up the rear.

As they climbed the stairs, Greed fell back a couple of steps to Bruce's side and said to him, "I noticed you didn't eat much, are you okay?"

"I'm alright," Greed nodded and asked, "What about you? How's your hand?"

Bruce looked down at his hand, remembering how he had botched the healing earlier, resulting in a superficial cut, but nothing serious.

As soon as they reached the fourth floor, Shiller once again smelled a familiar, foul stench—the same rotten fish smell that was so overpowering it consumed all his attention.

He stopped at the top of the stairs, standing to the side, and told the others as they continued upward, "You go in front."

"What do you mean by this?!" Greed exclaimed. "You want us to be your cannon fodder?"

"Exactly, right now only two people have guns, other than me the other's shooting speed won't be faster than mine, so you'd better move it."

The others moved sluggishly to the front, Shiller's actions were a precaution against inadvertently triggering a dice roll and suffering a great failure that could severely injure him, his wounded shoulder was lesson enough.

Greed trudged forward, pinching his nose, but as he neared the room from which the stench emanated, he couldn't bear it any longer and retched.

Joker doubled over, vomiting, evidently disgusted beyond tolerance, as the others showed their discomfort—the smell in the hallway was beyond what humans could endure.

Upon entering the room, Shiller saw it was littered with fish, and beside them lay the bodies of a woman with a burst stomach and a man with a slit throat, blood, excrement, and bits of innards were everywhere—it was chaos.

Clear signs of struggle indicated to Shiller that the two deceased likely fought each other, with the man probably attempting to kill the woman but ending up killed by her instead.

Strangely, after killing him, the woman didn't dispose of the bodies or flee but rather, like the corpse in the cabin kitchen, consumed an excessive amount of raw fish and for reasons unknown, her stomach burst open.

Shiller first checked the man's body, who wore a plaid shirt with callused hands. As Shiller searched his pockets, he found a few screws.

Black dice rolled again, no doubt a great failure, but Shiller had stepped aside after checking the body, so at worst, it meant no clues were found.

Shiller thought as much, but after the dice settled, the body moved.

It was almost laughable for Shiller—to think this was even more effective than necromancy! If he turned all the bodies' pockets out now, rolling failures each time, he could become the most flamboyant necromancer in the world.

"The fight begins..."

The muffled voice came again, without specifying what constituted victory, Shiller resigned himself to the side, waiting for time to stop and the round to begin.

When time did stop, Greed said sarcastically, "Didn't you say it's fine to shoot monsters with guns? Go ahead, shoot one now!"

Shiller lifted the shotgun, aimed, "Bang!"

The bullet hit the corpse square in the chest.

Everyone was taken aback.

Wait, dude, you actually shot?

Then the dark barrel of the gun was pointing at Greed.

"Hold on!" Greed held up a hand, "Don't shoot! Let me explain first!"

"Don't waste the bullets," Bruce, realizing Shiller wasn't Arrogant, said, "We'll handle the monster first."

"It's not about the monster right now," Shiller's thoughts weren't following theirs, "If you don't explain yourselves, I can assure you this will be the last time I stop time."

"Don't be rash," Bruce said, "You're not the only one here with a gun; you can't always threaten us with it."

"You know I'm Shiller, so you should understand that threatening you with a gun is the most gentle approach I've chosen," Shiller then turned the gun towards Bruce.

Greed quickly pulled Bruce aside and whispered in his ear, "Don't provoke him; this isn't Arrogant."

"Then who is he?" Bruce whispered back.

"Didn't he tell you? Just a regular detective."

"He's an agent?! You've been an agent too???"

"That's old news," Greed said.

Bruce pursed his lips, now they were in a bit of trouble.

Agents are quite peculiar creatures, whose life creed is to never back down and not be responsible.

In their first training session upon joining, it's emphasized that they can't show weakness, not ever, because they represent not just themselves but the law enforcement authority behind them.

Once an agent yields to someone, it means all agents can bow to everyone, and the authority to enforce the law becomes a joke.

Agents are always taught never to show weakness, even if it exacerbates the conflict. Responsibility doesn't lie with them but with the others who refuse to back down. They end up facing more accusations because of it.

At least that's how all American agents are trained, and this includes the police and military because all these law enforcement agencies are nothing more than machines for maintaining stability. They bear no mission of national survival and development; they're just the cutting blades of the American meat grinder.

Agents don't negotiate. Either you listen to them, or you go talk to their superiors so that their superiors listen to you. There is no other way to deal with them, even if you once held the highest position in this country. Facing them only leaves room for temporary tactics.

"This is trouble," Bruce said, "He only has one bullet left. Who do you think he'll pop, you or me?"

"He could pop you first then use that knife to kill me," Greed said, "I don't think we have much room to resist. What do you think?"

Bruce hadn't actually seen Shiller in action. He was the type who wouldn't cry until he saw the coffin, believing in his capability until death. But today that wasn't possible since he couldn't see anything.

"Stay calm, sir," the pale knight stepped forward, "We have a common enemy now. There's no need to create discord over minor frictions. They just wanted to take care of the injured when they objected to your choice of exploration. And haven't they followed you out here? Since they've chosen to take the risk, there's no point in holding a grudge."

Shiller slowly lowered his gun.

Greed immediately glanced at the pale knight, realizing Shiller's intention to win him over. At this point, Bruce asked, "What's the deal with this guy? He reminds me of a young Joker?"

"He is the Joker," Greed said.

That doesn't seem right, Bruce shook his head. Though he was blind now, he had been able to see before, and this guy's every move didn't seem like someone from the lower classes but more like a well-educated heir.

"It's complicated," Greed went on, "But he saved Gotham."

"What?!" Bruce mentally added, "Another master? Which faction's general is he?"

"Don't pretend to care," Night Owl suddenly said, "If you truly wanted to protect them, you should have agreed to their proposal to stay behind. The doctor is too valuable to risk like this."

Hearing Night Owl speak for him, Bruce breathed a sigh of relief, not for the current situation, but because he was glad Arrogant wasn't here; otherwise, Night Owl could have been thoroughly confused.

Shiller turned the gun to Night Owl, and Night Owl drew his own handgun on Shiller.

The pale knight had already moved beside Shiller; he looked at Night Owl and said, "You're nothing like Batman. I don't know where you're an imposter from, but the Batman below, even in death, is a thousand times more noble than you."

Bruce thought to himself that the knight was no less provocative, but they couldn't keep arguing like this. It wasn't time for things to fall apart.

Just as he was about to speak up, the pale knight turned to him and said, "You're no different. Both of you are cut from the same cloth. You're evil. He's useless. Together, you're evil and useless."

Bruce's anger flared up. He looked at the pale knight and said, "What about you? A madman disguised as a champion of justice? Do you think you're that useful?"

"I tend to agree with him," Joker said, smirking sinisterly from the side, but his eyes were on Bruce, clearly agreeing with the pale knight's view, "You're like a child who hasn't been weaned. Does that make you unusually proud? Good thing you have plenty of mommies."

Bruce took a deep breath as Greed quickly grabbed hold of him.

Seeing Greed's action, Shiller understood; the one he really needed to win over wasn't the evil Batman Night Owl, but Joker.

Night Owl wasn't a crazy Batman; he was rational, evil in a lawful to neutral way, not the chaotic evil of the Joker.

Joker never truly cooperates with anyone, not even against Batman. He doesn't need teammates, and if Greed can make him take action once or twice, it's only because the outcome will entertain him, not because he actually considers the team's interests.

Shiller quickly figured it all out.

What's at the core of Joker's interests? Of course, it's always tormenting Batman.

Out of the three Batmen present, one had defected, one had gone mad; only one was left normal, and of course, Joker would choose to torment the normal one.

So, the Primary Universe Batman was the first to fall.

Though Greed might be the mastermind behind the scenes, Joker would certainly have exerted a great deal of effort to bring down the Batman most like the real one.

If Joker had indeed replaced the dice, his aim was to prevent Bruce from healing the Primary Universe Batman; he wanted the Primary Universe Batman to suffer.

But if this objective was unmet, there would be no basis for cooperation between him and Greed — in fact, it could even lead to them turning against each other.

"Batman is dying," Shiller suddenly said to Joker, "Is this what you wanted? To let him die inexplicably at the start of the game?"

"Isn't that perfect?" Joker sneered, "So many people here waiting to be saved, so many mysteries waiting to be solved, yet he can do nothing. He can only leave this beautiful world with his belly full of questions."

Shiller knew immediately — this was Joker's design. For a detective terminally ill with curiosity, to leave the world with the mystery unsolved and the murderer uncaught was indeed torture.

"No," Shiller said, "For a detective, being powerless is more painful than death."

"He's powerless now."

"He's only dying, not devoid of wisdom or means. If he dies now and watches our game unfold, he'll only feel that he could have done better if he were here."

Joker's face darkened.

"Only if he's here can you prove he's powerless. If he dies, he'll forever be the greatest detective."