Days as a Spiritual Mentor in American Comics

Chapter 5904: Chapter 4925: Batman Is Not Here (12)

"What do you mean?" Constantine asked, while wrapping something around a bone, "Are you also a leader of some kind of religion?"

"What do you think is the essence of religion?"

"This question is somewhat profound, but Constantine happens to be an expert in this area," he said. "If you want me to analyze it from a sociological perspective, I would tell you, it’s actually just self-comfort for humans."

"That’s right," the Bishop nodded and said, "People need faith for self-comfort, but they also need a certain collective spirit to unite them. Then, what do you think this thing is in the entirety of human society?"

"Isn’t the human race itself the same?" Constantine said, but soon realized it wasn’t quite right because there is a vast difference between individuals, so he added, "We are the same species, with similar bodily structures and thought processes."

"Yes, but that’s all surface level. What truly allows human society to develop to this day without experiencing sociological separation is actually the common instinct of the human race," the Bishop paused, then continued, "What we pursue and reject, what we enjoy and fear, what we love and hate, all these things have common instinctual parts."

"Are you referring to emotional patterns or something?"

"Compared to logic, it indeed leans more towards emotions, because emotions are more instinctual," the Bishop said. "If you understand it in this way, then understanding and utilizing humanity’s common instincts is a kind of special magic."

"I don’t get it at all," Constantine said. "Instinct should be an abstract concept, let alone the collective instinct of humans, which should be a term that only appears in textbooks. Or is there a source of power that I don’t know about, controlling all this?"

"Suppose, I mean suppose. If someone truly mastered this magic, wouldn’t he be the Priest of all human society?"

"Are you saying you have this ability?"

"In a world without magic, I naturally wouldn’t have it. But this world has both magic and Psychic Ability Users. Since there are idealistic elements present, how can you know that common instincts are just a concept and are not understandable or usable?"

"The problem is how you understand and utilize them," Constantine said, "This thing is invisible and intangible, you have nowhere to test it even if you want to."

"That’s not necessarily true," the Bishop said. "If I can form a society by combining myself with myself, then I can naturally practice by exploring my own instincts, and gradually develop towards mastering the common instincts of humanity."

"It sounds completely far-fetched," Constantine commented.

"Indeed not yet proficient," the Bishop continued. "Currently, the instincts I can stir remain my own. However, you’ve seen Charles’s attitude, he seems to feel something. This proves that the range has at least extended to Psychic Ability Users. But that’s not surprising, their superpower makes them more capable of mastering their own subconscious and more easily accessing the collective unconscious."

"Can you explain in simpler terms," Constantine sighed and said. "What exactly is the collective instinct of humans?"

"You know the Kingdom of Dreams, right?" the Bishop asked.

"I’ve heard of it," Constantine said. "But I haven’t delved deeply into exploring it; it sounds very dangerous."

"The collective unconscious is a sea floating beneath the Kingdom of Dreams."

"Isn’t the Kingdom of Dreams the bottommost part?"

"No. Although dreams indeed play out in the human subconscious, the so-called daydream thoughts and night dreams are still too closely connected to consciousness. And the real collective unconscious is a field that consciousness cannot fully explore."

"Are you trying to explore this sea?"

"Yes. As long as you can stir up this sea, all humans connected to the collective unconscious will feel something. People like Charles, these Psychic Ability Users, will be more sensitive than others."

"What can you achieve if you control this sea?" Constantine seemed quite interested in this.

"I don’t know," the Bishop shook his head and said. "Exploration itself is the purpose; no one knows what will happen. But at least for now, I can summon other versions of myself through my own collective unconscious. And that’s already enough."

Constantine thought for a moment and said, "Indeed, the other versions of you are quite strong. So you’re a Summoner?"

"It’s not wrong for you to think that way," the Bishop smiled and said. "Actually, I can summon more; it’s just a bit troublesome."

"That look..." Constantine recalled the pair of scattered grey eyes he saw, which obviously didn’t belong to the Bishop.

"Uh, the side effect is that it might call some dangerous fellows," the Bishop said. "The information is broadcasted to everyone, even Charles and the others can perceive it, so all the other versions of myself can receive it. If someone is interested, they would take over, and there’s nothing I can do about that."

"I just feel it’s dangerous to work with you," Constantine said. "The person looking at me earlier seemed to be estimating how long I’d take to stew."

"No," the Bishop explained, "it’s because he has dealt with other Constantines before, there’s some history. He just got a bit interested when he saw a rare breed like you."

"I’m nothing like them." Constantine had a look of refusal. "I never want to have anything to do with certain psychopaths and madmen. God help me."

With a car, the Agent and Deathstroke quickly arrived at Wayne Manor. Most of the bodies here hadn’t been cleaned up. These two seasoned guys took one look and knew who the people inside Wayne Manor were.

"Open the door!" Deathstroke was unceremonious, directly stepping forward and calling for the door. Then the sniper rifle muzzle instantly extended from the matchbox-like Watchtower above. The moment the scope caught sight of that black and yellow armor, Nightwing let out a gasp.

"Deathstroke!" he exclaimed, "Brainiac, aren’t you afraid of him when you copy Deathstroke’s monster design like this?"

"That’s not a monster," Brainiac said a little speechlessly. "That’s another group of players. You don’t recognize Deathstroke, but you don’t recognize Shiller either?"

"It’s only because of Shiller that I find it weird. I was just thinking you’re pretty bold, copying Deathstroke and then Shiller, aren’t you the least bit itchy from having so many lice?"

The good news was they weren’t monsters; the bad news was they weren’t monsters either. Nightwing put away the sniper rifle and walked downstairs. He didn’t dare to really open the door, just said through the door, "What are you guys here for?"

Inside, Robin was prepared for battle. You had to know, when they first came to this universe, Bruce at most just scared them a little. Eating barbecue with the Joker was a bit scary, but actually, it wasn’t the Joker who was scary, it was more that the act itself was scary. But it indeed hadn’t done them any real harm.

Deathstroke was different. Uncle Zhong actually fought them, and the Teen Titans were often chased and beaten by him. Although for some reasons, many disasters that should have happened in the Prime Universe didn’t happen, the Robins had indeed had several clashes with Deathstroke, mostly ending in big defeats.

Although they didn’t want to admit they weren’t opening the door due to cowardice, they knew it in their hearts. Although the rules said not to clash with players, it seemed there were no limits. Having just completed a raid, with resources running low, another fight with Deathstroke would make this game unplayable.

"We’re here to deliver something to you," Deathstroke seemed to be trying to ease the atmosphere. "For Batman’s sake."

It wasn’t good to mention this, as it only made Robin angrier. Since Deathstroke agreed to take Batman’s orders, Batman also found this super mercenary extremely useful. As long as the pay was enough, the super detective always seriously solved the case, daring to venture into any peril.

As a result, Batman entrusted many potentially dangerous tasks to Deathstroke instead of Robin. Moreover, when the Agent also came along, some tasks that involved dealing with agents but weren’t dangerous were given to the Agent. The two of them teamed up, snatching almost all of Robin’s work.

Initially, the Robins worked with Batman not for money or material conditions. They purely shared a common ideal with Batman, the Batman Family was united by ideals and emotions. So Batman choosing Deathstroke and the Agent over them left the Robins quite displeased. Paid workers can’t work wholeheartedly, of course, they were the ones doing the best job.

It was already frustrating enough to not be able to beat Deathstroke, and now having him snatch Robin’s job was even more infuriating. But being angry was useless since they couldn’t beat him. Fortunately, he wasn’t black-haired and blue-eyed, and probably quite old, so he couldn’t become Batman’s Robin, or it would indeed be a crisis for the Batman Family.

Seeing the conversation about to collapse, the Agent quickly stepped up, saying, "We really came to deliver supplies. We heard you don’t have any means of magic defense here. We got a nice piece of equipment from the Cathedral and decided unanimously to sponsor it to you."

The Agent’s credibility with the Robins wasn’t high either. Not a word from that agent’s mouth was real. If it weren’t for their steadfast belief in Batman’s character, they’d almost suspect Batman had his lackeys.

But as the Agent said, they really didn’t have any means of magic defense. And in this kind of game, it didn’t seem necessary to go to great lengths to scam an ally either.

Nightwing felt a bit swayed, but Red Robin said, "Could they be impersonators?"

Damian shook his head, saying, "No way. Impersonators wouldn’t be this annoying."

That point indeed gained everyone’s support. With Deathstroke’s vibe, one look and you knew it was the real deal, fake ones couldn’t be this irritating.

After hesitating a bit, they opened the door. But just in case, Red Robin still asked, "Which universe are you from?"

"Didn’t I just pin you down last month, and you’ve already forgotten?" Deathstroke wasn’t polite with him either. "Knowing you’re not heavy enough, you still wanted to play ground techniques with me. I’m telling you, I’ve got a camera on me and will send your expert fighting skills to Batman."

"You!" Red Robin gritted his teeth.

Damian was a bit tempted to gloat, but Deathstroke wasn’t planning to let him off either. "You’re not much better, just knowing how to play with the grappling hook. Last time, you couldn’t hold the droplet beast statue tight and fell off. I was smoking under the eaves and thought you were there to scam me."

"How did you know... You damned voyeur!" Damian cursed. "Why are you watching me for no reason?!"

"Alright," Red Hood said, "take off your mask first, otherwise how would we know if you’re an impersonator?"

Deathstroke rolled his eyes, but since none of the Robins inside were wearing masks either, he didn’t fuss and used a finger to hook his mask, lifting it from below.

The living room erupted in exclamations: "How are you so young?!!"

This was trouble. Although he wasn’t black-haired and blue-eyed, he was blonde and blue-eyed and looked similar in age to the Robins. The Robins exchanged glances. Could Batman be...