Chapter 1714 Bruce Wayne and the Secret Room (Part 11)_1

Anyone could see the fury that was roaring inside this girl, a rage so intense even a storm over the Himalayas could not quench it. But very few understood what she was angry about.

"She lacks empathy," Bruce attempted to assert.

Bruce had never received the best feedback when it came to his understanding of psyche from Shiller, but his detective talents helped him compensate to some extent.

"She displays all the classic signs of a psychopath — intense focus, captivating, entirely ruthless," Bruce stated the three major traits of psychopathy along with his judgement.

"She shows typical antisocial personality traits; the inability to love; an innate talent for manipulation; deceitfulness; lack of remorse; indifference to common values and morality; yet she follows her own set of rules."

Constantine glanced at Shiller, then shifted his gaze towards the floor, silently considering the possibility of finding an escape from this room full of antisocial personalities and psychopaths.

"If you could expand a bit beyond textbook definitions, your professor would be pleased," Shiller commented.

Bruce sank into deep thought, recalling the behavior patterns of Harley he had previously observed, before speaking.

"Unlike other psychopaths and people with antisocial personalities, Harley Quinn displays a kind of dependent madness. She needs to be in a continuous state of observing others, and being observed by them, or... or having an opportunity to display herself, only then does her madness show itself."

"Why this contradiction?"

"It stems from..." Bruce's sentence faded, it was clear he was searching his mind for an answer. His speech continued after a brief pause.

"Nobody listens to her," Pamela interrupted, with complete certainty. "From the moment of her birth, her insightful suggestions have been overlooked. No one sees her. She wishes to be understood, not as Harley Quinn, but as her true nature—a monster. She yearishes to be loved for her insane talents."

"A different manifestation of narcissism," Bruce said after some thought. "She is willing to forsake all other emotions, including self-esteem and her behavioral principles, to seek approval and love."

"But it is an inherent tragedy. Ordinary people capable of love cannot understand her, and those who share her psychopathic and antisocial traits are incapable of love, hence she is destined to be forever wanting," he continued.

Bruce suddenly stopped talking and Pamela took over: "If she doesn't receive attention, she cannot release her madness. Likewise, if she wants to release her madness, she must first seek attention."

"So, she opened that book," Strange interjected with a raised eyebrow. "Was she serious? She opened that book not to seek power from some mysterious entities, but to attract attention?"

"That would greatly excite her. She clearly belongs to the high-functioning group among antisocial personalities. When their brains get active and adrenaline bursts forth, their intelligence could surpass any power obtained from external sources," Pamela asserted.

Harley's swift actions on the screen confirmed what Pamela was saying.

"I need to find someone who doesn't exist among the students."

Harley tore a page from the Book of the Dead, an act of stunning irreverence that anyone could see. However, it was strangely unique and bizarre that the book seemed unperturbed by her disrespect, the gray whirlpool on the page just kept rotating slowly.

"Your train of thought has jumped," the book responded, with a line appearing on the paper. "What influenced you?"

"Its actions revealed all the answers," Harley's eyes gleamed in the darkness of the corridor, her platinum hair sparkling under the moonlight like a waterfall.

"Obviously, I do not need answers from you, since the evidence is clear," she continued.

"Narita Keiko, a fifth-grade student, went insane on the morning of our second day here and was dragged out of the girls' dormitory hall. Li Zi'an, a fourth-grade student, went crazy in the dormitory on the same night, injuring her roommates; Alidan, a fourth-grade student who attacked me, is still lying in the infirmary with her eyes gouged out by me. Their grades, backgrounds, and patterns of behavior all fall within a small range and definitely intersect at a specific point."

"Helen was right. There's an elephant in the room, but we are not blind to it; we are simply choosing to ignore it."

Without a moment's hesitation, Harley quickly descended the stairs. Her familiarity with the unfamiliar school was as if she had lived there for a long time. Every step she took was confident and determined.

"We may be dealing with a deity who can make us blind to its presence, but it cannot leave no trace, or if they plan to make someone's brain stir up again, they must show their true form."

"So, before that, I must find a weapon," Harley announced as she rushed out from the corridor into the snowy yard, and darted across the pitch-black yard to another building.

After passing through the eerie-looking cafeteria at night, Harley found a boning knife, which appeared too big for her, hanging on the wall next to the chopping board in the kitchen.

Without a doubt, the food in Kamar-Taj didn't just magically appear. Most of the meat came from the livestock in the small village at the foot of the mountain. Occasionally other supplies would be transported through a portal, but since the sources were never too far, there was hardly any meat processed by civilized slaughterhouses available, most of it was butchered on-site.

Given the limited manpower in the school, the roles of the butcher and the chef were not clearly defined. Most of the time, when meat was needed in today's meal, it was the chef's job to go to the backyard with a knife and slaughter the livestock. Nobody here had any sort of moral burden about butchering.

Harley was absorbed in examining the knife, caressing its blood-filled blade with her fingers and said, "Sometimes I feel more in tune with Eastern culture. Their books are filled with the concept of 'survival', and I get a vibe of brutality."

Harley drew in a deep breath and stood up, glancing at the twilight outside. Then she said, "Next, we must find a way to make this knife hurt those I intend to hurt. Considering that it's very likely that they are not ordinary humans, we may have to resort to magic."

"Do you want to borrow my power?"

"No." Harley licked her dry lips. "Using others' power is not my style. I need stronger help and it must be absolutely voluntary."

"Who do you think meets your requirements?"

Just as the boning knife plunged into the wall less than ten centimeters from Loki's face, Loki realized there was an intruder in his room.

A common knife could never pierce the skin of the Frost Giants, but Loki first had to figure out how Harley came in. He had the habit of setting magic protection on the door.

"It wasn't too difficult." Harley pulled out the knife and said, "Considering they call you the God of Mischief, the talismans on the door are a blind eye technique. The real protection is on the carpet in the middle of the door."

"I inserted the knife and tilted the carpet, which allowed the door to open just enough for me to squeeze through. I guess you didn't expect a teenager of my stature to invade your room."

"I'm more surprised that you're carrying such a knife." Loki, in his nightgown, calmly poured himself a cup of water from the bedside pitcher. "Lady, what exactly do you want?"

"I need a little power."

Loki turned to look at Harley, she was fidgeting with the knife in her hand, then said, "I am going to kill an elephant, right now it is in the room. But ordinary people can't see it, or they can see but can't realize it's an elephant. Can you enchant this knife with a magic spell that pierces disguises?"

"Have you gone mad, miss?" Loki couldn't make sense of her lengthy, erratic rants.

"You're a god, aren't you?"

Loki opened his mouth, "Well, probably different from the kind you are thinking of, we from Asgard are just powerful aliens, we do not borrow powers like a cosmic sorcerer."

"Then help me find someone who can."

"Don't you think you're a bit…"

With a "swish", Harley thrust the knife into the bed again. "Your daughter, Helen, she has an amazing talent for learning."

Loki stared at Harley's face, not understanding how her mind had jumped to this conversation. He could clearly see the girl's wisdom and her current excitement, and an oddly calm madness.

"I can feel her absorbing my wisdom, but if she continues on this path, she will inevitably absorb my darkness and madness. Do you want that for her?"

"Are you threatening me with her?"

"I'm just offering you some necessary assistance. What I mean is, if you help me find the power, I will give her all of this…" Harley pointed at her temple, "Everything here, including what's making me like this now. Trust me, it will be her trump card in some tragic disaster."

Loki stared at Harley with steady green eyes, as if considering whether this deal was worth it, but perhaps because it concerned Helen, he finally said, "Can I assume you're hallucinating? I don't think there's anything in this school that can fool my eyes, I am the real master of illusion."

"What if it's a powerful deity?"

"There's a magical defense network, they can't get in."

"All defense networks have loopholes."

Loki knew he couldn't convince the mad girl, but an idea suddenly struck him, he said, "I can help you borrow power, the power may be a bit special, but I believe it's strong enough to help you see through some illusions."

"What is it?"

"Xeseon, and his Chaotic Power."