Chapter 1686: Bruce Wayne and the Secret Chamber (Part 12)

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“Who is calling my name? Such a naïve, innocent girl... Where do you come from?”

“Hello, Chthon, I’m a fourth-year student from Kamar-Taj Magic College. My name is Harley Quinn, but you can just call me Harley. I’m calling you because our college is about to host a sorcerer’s tournament, and I don’t yet have a contracted demon god. One of my professors recommended you to me. Could we have a little chat?”

“Uh...” Chthon was momentarily taken aback. This ancient demon god found it rather disconcerting to hear the casual, business-like tone that had become popular ever since the Sanctum Sanctorum started modernizing magical terminology. This girl sounded as if she were asking Chthon to sign off on an internship form.

“You…” Chthon hesitated, though he had actually been considering finding a new representative lately.

His previous focus had been entirely on Wanda, and he hadn’t paid much attention to his other representative, the Hydra Lady. But that was understandable since Hydra Lady had divided loyalties, wielding Set’s power as well. After a period of cold treatment from Chthon, Hydra Lady had also bid him farewell. Meanwhile, he still hadn’t managed to win Wanda back.

Previously, it had been mentioned that in the Dream Realm, Wanda was furious that Chthon could see her while she couldn’t see him. Her anger had lingered for quite some time, and Chthon was still waiting for her to text him back.

But truth be told, a grand demon like Chthon wasn’t one to be fixated on a single target. Yet, the reason he was so fixated on Wanda was because he was worried that Wanda might be thinking the same thing.

After all, Wanda was the true incarnation of chaos power. Though Chthon could control a majority of the chaos power, compared to Wanda, he was more like a middleman profiting from the difference.

Wanda wasn’t listening to him, and Chthon couldn’t do much about it. He certainly had thoughts of controlling or retaliating against Wanda, but the timing wasn’t right yet. In the meantime, he still needed a representative, and this girl calling him seemed like a good option. She sounded innocent and inexperienced—at least, Chthon thought her temper was likely better than Wanda’s.

Clearing his throat and adopting a deliberately mysterious tone, Chthon said to Harley, “Child, you shouldn’t heed your professor’s foolish advice to make a contract with the Lord of Chaos. It means you’ll have to pay a far greater price than others…”

“Can you help me win the tournament?” Harley’s voice was crisp, like ice chips plucked from a winter stream, followed by a slightly sweet yet petulant tone. “My archrival, that bitch Felana from the next dorm, has already started practicing using her contract partner’s magic. If I end up losing to her, I might as well just jump off the Himalayas now!”

“Seems like you’re determined to pay the price…”

“Oh, drop the theatrics. I’ve heard professors talk about the tricks of negotiating with demon gods, but honestly, I wasn’t paying much attention. Classes are so boring. Besides, you guys can’t actually get to us, so what can you do? You won’t be demanding an outrageous price, right?”

“I value fairness…”

“Then can I borrow your power? I promise I’ll use it well! Grand Demon Shadow, please, I really don’t want to lose the tournament!”

Chthon sensed a hint of doubt. He didn’t think Kamar-Taj would train such a sorcerer apprentice, but then again, considering the recent expansion in their admissions, and given that Harley’s appearance fit the typical profile of a rebellious student, he didn’t dwell on it too much.

Due to the existence of the Magic Defense Network and the ever-watchful Ancient One, demon gods were unable to fully access a human’s memories before making a contract. Chthon only skimmed Harley’s surface thoughts and found mostly anxiety and eagerness, with a dash of fantasies about victory—nothing out of the ordinary.

The only concern left was their compatibility. Most demon gods and humans were not fully compatible; some humans couldn’t handle certain types of powers. Chthon wasn’t sure if the Ancient One would cause trouble if he accidentally drove a girl mad, but he decided to send over a small portion of his power to test the waters.

Suddenly, Harley felt something new inside her soul. It was a peculiar sensation, like staring at ice inside a glass jar—though it was nearly invisible, she could still catch glimpses of it through light reflections.

“God!” Harley instinctively exclaimed, “Is this magic power? Have I mastered it?”

What a fledgling, Chthon mused, but for the sake of his future plans, he reluctantly soothed her, “Yes, that’s magic. Our compatibility seems quite good. Your soul harbors a darkness and chaos that even I cannot fully decipher, but this may be your unique talent. It suits chaos power well. You’ve found the right partner.”

“You sure are chatty, Mr. Chthon.”

“That’s because we’ve essentially formed a contract now. You just used my power, so no refunds.”

“I wasn’t planning on returning it.” Harley leaped up from the steps, a brewing storm in her eyes. The chaos power manifesting within her was a striking ice-blue, starkly different from Wanda’s red—more like the persistent storms over the Himalayan peaks.

She looked down at her hands. “I feel… full of power.”

“Wait, what’s that you’re holding? A new type of magic wand?” Chthon asked, puzzled.

Harley watched as the ice-blue chaos power poured from her palm, enveloping the blade of a carving knife until it turned completely transparent and floated in midair.

“Yes… this is my magic wand. The latest model.”

Meanwhile, in a vague dream, Little Bruce found himself transformed into a golden-feathered bird. As he pecked at the bark of a tall sweet chestnut tree, he glimpsed a falling star crashing into Egypt from the corner of his eye.

It made no sense. His rational mind told him that golden-feathered birds don’t exist, that he should be a bat, and that sweet chestnut trees typically grow in Europe. Besides, no reports had come in about a meteor crashing in Egypt.

The dream scenes kept shifting. Little Bruce heard a persistent clicking sound, growing louder and closer. Suddenly, he awoke within his dream to see a towering shadow standing by his bedside.

The figure was so tall that its head brushed the ceiling. It wore a robe in a style Bruce couldn’t recognize, with a massive crown on its head—though it lacked the regal grace of royalty, instead exuding a terrifying aura of authority.

“Who are you?” Little Bruce found himself unable to move, so he asked.

“I bring you a message from the stars. Answer his call, and he will grant you truth and power.”

With a sudden gasp, Bruce bolted upright in his bed, glancing around but seeing no tall shadow. Across the room, Barry was sleeping soundly in his own bed.

Bruce realized why he had been so fatigued lately—he was probably having this same dream every night but couldn’t recall it upon waking.

But any person named Bruce Wayne was no ordinary individual. Even after experiencing such a bizarre nightmare, his first instinct was to lament the two hours he could have spent discussing the Ark Reactor with Stark.

It was that damn pragmatic mindset. If acquiring knowledge required answering some mysterious call, he'd much rather engage in a discussion with a genius scientist than pin his hopes on some elusive blessing.

However, in the classroom of Dream Realmschool, Stark noticed that Little Bruce seemed off. He asked a few casual questions, to which Bruce replied irritably with just a few words. Stark widened his eyes and said:

“You haven’t realized you might have been chosen by a demon god?”

“From what exactly?” Little Bruce asked, confused.

“He’s been trying to contact you for days. You’ve ignored all his calls.”

“Do I have to respond?” Bruce sounded annoyed.

“Of course not,” Stark shrugged. “He can’t harass you endlessly. If you explicitly reject him and he keeps invading your dreams, Kamar-Taj will step in to deal with him. But you haven’t turned him down.”

“Yeah, I haven’t responded. You can’t expect me to... I told you, I’m an outsider to all this. I don’t understand these things, and I distrust them.”

“They’re safe within certain boundaries,” Stark said with a dismissive shrug. “Look, I don’t like all this mystical nonsense either, but since you’re learning magic, you can’t expect to go forever without any magical power, can you?”

“Besides, you don’t have any energy. Some concepts I can’t explain to you.” Stark glanced at his experimental schematics and added, “Like this energy core here—it involves energy flow principles you won’t grasp without firsthand experience.”

“So, should I respond to him?” Little Bruce looked hesitant.

“In my opinion, you don’t seem to have much magical talent anyway,” Stark said, still in that insufferably arrogant tone. “You’re not gifted in this field. Consider yourself lucky someone’s interested in you at all.”

The next time Little Bruce woke up, he found Barry standing anxiously by his bed. Barry bit his lip, hesitating before saying, “I know this might sound rude, but honestly, you look like crap.”

Bruce didn’t need Barry to tell him; he could see his own reflection in the wardrobe door. He took a deep breath, shook his head, and said, “A demon god has reached out to me. Apparently, that’s pretty normal in their realm. I’m just considering whether I should respond.”

Barry’s eyes widened in alarm. He was about to voice his concern, but Bruce waved him off, saying, “This Earth has a Magic Defense Network. They can’t do much here. If I accept, I might finally gain some magic powers. Maybe it’s worth trying.”

Barry glanced out the window; the sky was still pitch black. It seemed like Bruce had made up his mind. He lay back down on the bed, closed his eyes, and quickly sank back into sleep.

The sound of bells, drums, and distant chants filled his ears. In his dream, he saw a god standing at the edge of the northernmost land, bidding farewell to a giant bird. He heard the sound of a distant flute from behind a colossal figure standing on the icy plains.

He was almost able to make out its face when a sheet of parchment fluttered before him, covered with terrifying, maddening knowledge that no human should ever comprehend.

Little Bruce accepted it.

Batman was no ordinary man. He forced himself to look at the forbidden knowledge, screaming as he awoke. In that last moment, he was certain that the enormous figure in his dream had been just as shocked.

Suddenly, the door burst open with a loud bang.

Both Bruce and Barry turned to see a figure standing in the doorway, eyes glowing with blue, ghostly lights.

Harley stared at Little Bruce—or rather, at the empty space behind him—with a twisted smile and said, “Gotcha.”

But abruptly, the strange visions of the spiritual realm vanished, and Harley snapped back to her senses.

Her keen intuition, born from her extraordinary talent and the power simmering within her soul, gave her an almost divine sense of foreboding.

“Chthon! Chthon!” Harley began shouting frantically.

“What’s that?” Chthon asked, bewildered.

“It’s behind me!” she cried.

Chthon started to panic.

“No, Harley, you can’t—”

“Pathetic!” she snarled.

Harley turned around.

Standing behind her was Jennifer Mavi—now transformed into a towering figure in the far north, dressed in ornate robes and crowned with a shadowy crown. She was a golden bird, a meteor streaking over Egypt’s sky.

“Pray that you never meet any of my thousand other faces. Farewell, Bruce Wayne, and beware—for I am the Crawling Chaos. I am... Nyarlathotep.”

Who would have thought?

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

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Next Chapter =>Chapter 1687: Bruce Wayne and the Secret Chamber (Part Thirteen)