Chapter 1690: Bruce Wayne and the Prisoner of the Batcave (Part 1)

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"Alright, this damn Holy Power Rune finally stopped updating!" In the cramped basement, Constantine gritted his teeth and muttered, "Now that we’ve got this brief window of stability, I’m summoning that bastard Angel here to punch him square in the face! Everyone step back—I’m activating the Magic Circle!"

Tim tugged Jason’s elbow, pulling him back a couple of steps, but still voiced his concern: "The Divine Power Runes stopped updating just as abruptly as they started. If you don't figure out the reason behind it, recklessly activating the Magic Circle is a dangerous gamble. This isn’t child's play. If those Runes go haywire, who knows what you’ll summon."

Taking a deep breath, Constantine turned to Tim, speaking with a serious expression: "Let’s get this straight: between the two of us, you’re the kid. I’ve spent half my life researching these Runes. I’m confident that even if the Divine Power Runes destabilize, the worst that could happen is a failed summoning. I’m not about to gamble with my own life."

"You’d better not," Tim retorted, stepping back to stand beside Jason. The two leaned against a nearby cabinet, watching silently. Constantine worked for a while in the center of the Magic Circle, seemingly adding safeguards to some of the Runes. Then, rubbing his hands together, he took a small knife and cut into his palm, pressing it against the core Rune at the circle's center.

The Magic Circle began to glow, with each Rune operating exactly as Constantine intended. The irritating Holy Power Rune update had no effect on its operation, and everything seemed under control—except for one issue: nothing responded to the summoning ritual.

Constantine’s face showed both surprise and confusion. Despite his dubious reputation among humans, he was practically a celebrity in the supernatural realm, especially among Angels and Demons. Even after all the times he’d tricked them, countless Angels and Demons would still respond to his calls. Yet this time, the Magic Circle was met with complete silence. The intended target ignored it entirely.

But then, out of nowhere, a spatial bubble formed above the Magic Circle—a starkly different kind of energy at play. The bubble was like a rift between worlds: above it was an endless starry void filled with indescribable chaos, while below was the orderly, powerful human-made Magic Circle. The two energies couldn’t have been more different.

Tim suddenly sensed something off. He quickly sidestepped and darted out the door, yanking Jason along with him.

And as expected, Constantine—who was just a beat too slow—was hit squarely by several dark figures dropping from above, crashing him onto the concrete floor, his temple slamming painfully against the ground.

The first to hit the floor was Little Bruce. It was his ritual that initiated this whole ordeal, and as the gateway opened, he was flung the highest—likely due to some higher existence wanting to eject him. Either way, he ended up just like Constantine, sprawled on the cold concrete floor, though fortunately avoiding a blow to the back of his head.

The impact was far from gentle. Little Bruce let out a groan, arching his body like a fish out of water, then slowly rolled over to prop himself up on one arm. But his biggest challenge wasn’t the physical pain—it was the relentless whispers flooding his mind.

From a mystical perspective, Bruce had made a grave mistake: he responded to a call from an Outer God, accepted its power, yet failed to carry out its mission. Instead, he privately researched the knowledge he had acquired and even peered into the truth of another Outer God. To top it off, he performed a forbidden ritual to summon that very entity.

If not for the unique status he held in this space, he’d probably be the youngest yet most reckless legendary investigator ever.

Bruce wasn’t sure if the ritual to summon Yog-Sothoth had fully succeeded, but he was certain that the maddening whispers in his head had a lot to do with that entity. Perhaps most of the voices belonged to Nyarlathotep, but he wasn’t in the mood to differentiate—they were all hammering his brain into a state of agony.

The next to drop was Harley Quinn. Despite the chaotic situation, she maintained her agility, adjusting her posture mid-air and rolling on the ground to disperse the impact. Her fall wasn’t as harsh.

However, as she landed, both the moans escaping her lips and the ones in her mind erupted simultaneously. The scream that followed was deafening inside her head—a young, furious, and energetic female voice shouted:

"What did you do?! Where am I?!"

"Hey, hold on!" Harley raised her eyebrows, straining to open her eyes wide, trying to calm the adrenaline-fueled aggression surging within her. Taking a deep breath, she replied mentally, "That’s my question to you. Who are you? And what are you doing in my head?"

"Someone tampered with the chaos power! Those horrifying star whispers reached my ears through that energy, so I came to investigate... Wait a minute, oh God, I’m not trapped in your mind! I can still come back to myself—thank heavens!"

"No, it’s fine, darling. You can take a nap if you want. I just felt a bit dizzy, maybe because Chthon decided to give me a phone call that I’m not interested in answering. Yeah, that’s it... Alright, fine, every time I lie, I get caught. Here’s the truth..."

The voice in Harley's mind faded, but it didn’t disappear completely. It was like someone speaking from behind a thick wall, addressing another person.

Harley couldn’t hear the other side of the conversation, but based on what the girl was saying, they were likely in a distant place observing this situation due to some unexpected incident.

Then, Harley pieced it together. She was no fool. Raising her voice in her mind, she shouted: "So Chthon deceived me, didn’t he? That chaos power doesn’t belong to him—or at least, not entirely. I can feel that it’s more closely connected to you."

"In a sense, yes." Wanda’s voice echoed in Harley’s mind, with each response causing a flicker of red light in Harley’s left eye. It was as if some sort of distant gaze was igniting a fire within her very soul.

“Chthon can never call himself the Lord of Chaos because he's not truly the master of chaos power. While I can't fully claim that title either, there's no doubt that I can wield far more chaos power than he can.”

“When you drew upon chaos power, I sensed an unusual aura—a presence that reminded me of something incredibly dangerous I’ve encountered before. I can feel that someone close to you summoned them.”

“My close connection with chaos power sets me apart from ordinary humans. Like the demon gods, I can directly lend my chaos power to my followers. I came into your soul with both my power and consciousness, intending to borrow your body to deal with these dangerous entities.”

“They cannot come here!” Wanda took a deep breath, saying, “I’ve confronted one of them—or perhaps the greatest and most terrifying one among them. I can’t utter his name, but in that Dark Great Chamber filled with the wailing flutes and pounding drums, he still slumbers.”

Harley keenly caught onto some familiar words, and she and Wanda began to exchange information in hushed whispers within their minds, trying to share as much intelligence as possible. After all, any smart person could see that this situation was far from over; it was just too chaotic and complex to untangle right now.

Next, Barry Allen came crashing down. Among this group, he was the luckiest yet also the unluckiest, as he happened to land on Constantine. The good news was that he didn’t hit the cement floor; the bad news was that falling into a pit of muck was arguably worse.

A voice echoed in his mind.

“Is this that strange dimension you mentioned coming from? It does seem incredibly far away—far beyond the limits of the multiverse I’ve dreamt of reaching. And yet, curiously, I can still direct my attention here.”

“No, no, my powers aren’t working!” The voice now carried a hint of shock and rage. “The rules of power in different worlds are completely different. Even the Dark Book can’t provide a perfect solution... But no matter, my experience still applies. I can help you locate some strong power that remains usable in this realm.”

“Just take a break already,” Barry muttered, clutching his head and shaking it vigorously. He was startled to realize that he had crashed into someone. Hurriedly, he rushed over to help Constantine up.

Constantine, holding the lump forming on his head, glanced sideways at Barry and said, “I’m guessing from head to toe, you’ve got nothing to do with the creature I tried to summon. None of your relatives are angels or demons, are they?”

Hearing that familiar voice, Barry, still dizzy, looked at Constantine and blurted out, “Professor Constantine?”

“‘Professor’?! The only U.S. law I ever supported was the one against selling booze to minors. Are you serious, kid?”

But before he could finish, tragedy struck again. Just as Constantine was struggling to stand up, yet another figure dropped from above.

“Bam!”

This newcomer packed a much harder punch. At this point, Constantine was probably the only one in the multiverse who could survive having Doomsday drop directly onto his head.

“Oh, for heaven’s sake, what happened? Why is my body and brain telling me I just got kicked halfway across the world?!”

Helen Stark, clutching her head and squinting her eyes, wobbled as she climbed off Constantine. She took a deep breath, let out a quick huff, and then noticed the cause of the chain of crises: three peculiar-looking freshmen from the magic academy standing in a row, staring at her with odd expressions.

“I guess... we’re back,” Harley sighed. “To be precise, I’m back—this is the world where the Robins reside.”

“Jesus, Constantine, don’t tell me these are all the angels you were trying to summon... Uh, Harley? What are you doing here?”

Jason stepped over the threshold, and Tim visibly froze for a moment at the sight of the crowded room. As they both walked in, the already cramped basement became even more packed.

Constantine seemed to have finally reached his limit. Leaning back against the wall, he waved his hand vigorously and shouted:

“Everyone, get out! You brats, who would ever enjoy surrounding themselves with a bunch of kids like Batman?!”

[Read at www.patreon.com/shanefreak, and thanks for the invaluable support!]

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Next Chapter =>Chapter 1691: Bruce Wayne and the Prisoner of the Batcave (Part 2)