Days as a Spiritual Mentor in American Comics

Batman chose to max out Spiritual Analysis.

The moment his Skill Points disappeared, he thought he heard the Transcendent's continuous broadcast, but he couldn't make it out clearly, as all sound was receding in his mind.

He only heard the Transcendent's last sentence.

"Forget to tell you, the nature of the talent is such that the worse your mental state is, the more you will see. Good luck, Batman."

The world in his eyes transformed.

First, Batman saw a field of blood red, then he found his senses failing him, to be precise, vision, smell, hearing, touch all blurred together.

He heard some minor noises, but they were not sounds. Rather, they were gray ripples falling before his eyes, emitting a rotten and damp odor, with a texture somewhat like rain-soaked feathers, flowing softly before him.

Behind these ripples, there was a glint of crystal green, which began to expand gradually, staining everything in his field of vision red, representing a chain of gurgling sounds, and the fall of brownish-gray debris.

Batman almost immediately understood what these things represented.

Monsters passed over his head, murmuring to each other in a calm mood, with a touch of complaint, their attention never focused on him, and he remained undiscovered.

As the monsters stepped directly over his head that moment, Batman saw a slit appear in the green, and it seemed as though his soul suddenly rose up, higher and higher.

And then the two monsters became tiny dots, while he, hiding under the bridge, swelled rapidly, growing larger than a massive sailboat, until he suddenly exploded into a black sludge, drowning everything.

When Batman came to, the monsters had already left.

Or more accurately, he had no clue whether the monsters had even come, or if it was all just an illusion.

He couldn't tell whether he was better off or worse now because besides the illusions, he couldn't access the real world at all; his every action now relied solely on the illusions he perceived.

He didn't know if he should trust these bizarre illusions.

In fact, Batman couldn't fully decipher these illusions yet. He only sensed from them as though everything was just the outcome of his runaway thoughts, as if, in reality, both the illusions and his feelings were nonexistent, including himself.

He became increasingly engulfed by nothingness, denying all senses, letting the illusions shift without thought, as if time itself had stopped flowing.

After an indeterminate period, he heard a faint voice.

"Wake up, Batman."

Then the voice grew slightly puzzled.

"Why are you all like this? Is my talent some dementia trigger?"

The voice was all too familiar, instantly pulling Batman's memory and reason back, even though he still could see nothing beyond the illusions, at least he could now feel his own existence.

"PhD?"

"It's me; I was already on my way back to rest," said the Transcendent, who ran into the High Tower, screaming while knocking on the door, "My talent has addled you. Let me help you recover. How do you feel?"

"…Intriguing," Batman had to admit truthfully, asking, "Is this how you live?"

"Of course not, it's too extreme. This might occur only when I'm close to death, but those on the morbid side have a different story. Some of them can maintain this state continuously."

The arrogant tone was ever constant, as if he was discussing something insignificant, as casual as mentioning what he had for breakfast, with a laid-back nonchalance.

"Can you see what I'm seeing?"

"Yes, I can. Our souls are connected now; otherwise, you wouldn't be able to use this talent."

"What do you see?"

"Ah…" The Arrogant mused before saying, "Your mental state is indeed precarious. Without taking some sedative within an hour, you might have to bid farewell to your Batman career forever."

"I wasn't talking about me." Batman focused as much as possible, but it was exceedingly difficult, given he couldn't even be sure if he was speaking to his own illusion.

"Are you talking about the situation you're facing now? Let me see... Although I don't know why you've come to this place, there are about fifteen living beings around you, judging by their movement, they seem to be patrolling."

Batman numbly felt his illusions and said, "How can you tell?"

"Do you sense the atmosphere right now?"

"I'm not sure," Batman said, "It's as if everything indicates the atmosphere, but at the same time, everything does not."

"Concentrate, find the common thread within the illusions you see, not the sensory commonality, but the common feeling these illusions bring to you."

After a moment of silence, Batman said, "I feel cold, a sunless chill, as if this night will never end."

"Yes. Do you feel anything unusual in this atmosphere?"

Batman was silent for a long while before responding, "There are some petty things, I don't know if they're active, not so lifeless, as if they can think, have emotions."

"That's because it is life," the Arrogant informed him, "You need to peel these vibrant things out of the atmosphere, and then gradually determine whether they are the creators or destroyers of the atmosphere."

Batman didn't care anymore whether he was truly speaking to the Arrogant. He just found that it seemed to be actually helpful.

"How will I know if I've successfully peeled them away?"

"What do you think?"

"Perhaps it's the heartbeat?"

As soon as Batman's voice fell, he heard heartbeats by his ear, some distant, some closer, yet he seemed able to pinpoint their locations by the heartbeat.

"Congratulations, your wish is granted," an arrogant voice said with a hint of a smile, "Now you should understand what these illusions mean."

Batman knew he didn't understand, or rather, he didn't want to believe, relentlessly digging for the truth.

"I wish I could have whatever illusions I want, but what does that have to do with the real world?"

"It might have nothing to do with it, just your crazed illusions."

"Then can I make these illusions disappear?"

"Of course you can, but how can you be sure that it has really disappeared? How do you know that the real world, after the illusion disappears, isn't just another false world created by your desires?"

Batman went silent.

"So you just have to believe," Arrogant continued, "Believe that your illusions correspond one to one with the real world, believe that you can use the information provided by the illusions to solve your current predicament."

Before Batman could respond, Arrogant went on, "This is unreasonable; the human spirit should not be connected to the material world in such a mad way. It's morbid."

"But whether it's normal or not doesn't directly affect whether you choose to believe and use it right now."

"The connection between believing in what's normal and striving for survival shouldn't be as you imagine, although various facts have proved that their bridge is incredibly solid and the cause and effect are clear. But if there has been one exception like me, naturally, there could be a second."

"What exception?"

"Do you think High Tower is not the result of an exception? Do you think I split myself into so many parts because I was full and bored?"

"So in some exception, you chose the latter and abandoned the former."

"Yes, I did not achieve victory, but I survived successfully, and so I embarked on this path, and so far, it's been rather good."

"I'm afraid I can't do the same as you, PhD," Batman said, "I know that many genius inspirations in this world don't have evidence, and I am not paranoid enough to demand proof of existence from a madman's illusions; it can't be proven."

"So you don't plan to believe what you're feeling?"

"No, I believe, but I believe even more that one day I will figure all of this out in a more scientific way, and until then, I'll just treat this as a tool, like Constantine's magic."

"You have never tried to research the roots of magic because you know it's very dangerous, so why research this?"

"The dangerous thing isn't magic, but magicians," Batman finally seemed to speak his true thoughts, "Whether devils had allured them, they should know best. Why don't the devils tempt me? Why not tempt Superman, or even The Flash?"

"Not all bad seeds in this world need to be divided into those who can do magic and those who can't. I don't study magic because I've studied enough lunatics, evildoers, and baddies."

"So you study me because you think it was this devilish gift that tempted me and not that I am a bad seed?"

"I'll know after I study it."

"Alright, before you draw any conclusion, consider it a kind of magic. I can tell you some basic rules, but the rest is up to you to figure out."

"Thank you for your patience..."

"Don't mention it, this isn't even a tenth of my patience."

When Batman opened his eyes again, he flipped up from underneath the pier and strolled across the street.

At a corner, he stopped, with nimble movements, flipped onto the awning, and squatted in the shadow at the corner of the wall, watching two dark figures walk past the alleyway.

"Angry, complaining..."

He whispered to himself.

Then he turned his head towards the street corner, a very faint glint from a trident, and whispered again, "Impatient, sad, in pain... Found it."

In a moment, his figure followed the wall of the alley and reached the street, seemingly merging with the long shadow cast by the streetlight.

The Deep Diver staggering in front of him did not notice him at all, just walking straight ahead.

Until One Hand grabbed his trident.

In the next second, the weapon pulled from him was thrust into his chest, a mighty force dragging him into the adjacent alley.

The Deep Diver was about to scream when the trident was stabbed into his neck again, blood gushing out, and in the second before death, he saw a pair of unfocused eyes and heard the low whisper of a God of Death.

"Are you sad about the disappearance of your comrades?... But at the same time you're fervent, willing to sacrifice your life for your followers and proud of it, is that your God?"

Instantly, a prompt from the Transcendent seemed to ring in Batman's ear again, "He might have thrown a dice, but he couldn't see the result."

Only in the bizarre Illusion did he see, at the dark bottom of the sea, an ugly and vast body emitting rhythmic growls, like singing a terrifying dirge.

Those bulging, yellow eyes suddenly looked towards him, and after a buzzing sound, he felt surrounded by countless whispers.

Characters and syllables danced around him, until, in the crushed senses, they presented themselves in the form of illusions.

He understood Its meaning.

"My name... 'Dagon'."