Chapter 24: Wizard?

Cid greedily inhaled the foul-smelling air into his lungs and coughed violently twice. After catching his breath, he finally saw clearly the shadow that had fallen from the sky.

Only then did he realize—it wasn't some bat-shaped monster, but someone who looked like a person. Still, whether that person had all their mental faculties was debatable. The guy had clearly dressed himself up to look like a bat.

What kind of lunatic would wear something like that?

But if he had to describe it, it wasn't just craziness—this guy looked... refined in his madness.

Even under the flickering lights, though it was hard to see the details, Cid could tell at a glance that the gear on this strange man wasn't cheap.

That suit of armor he was wearing looked like it was made of some sort of tightly-woven high-grade synthetic fiber, reinforced with armored plating at key points. From just a glance, Cid could tell it was way more advanced than the standard nine-division riot suits they had.

He quickly remembered that Klein, from the office building, had reported seeing a bat-like creature earlier. Unless there was another person in this city obsessed with cosplaying as a bat and doing weird performance art at midnight, odds were this was the same guy.

"Mike," the infected man who had just been kicked flying, got up and twisted his neck with a weird cracking motion.

"Huh? And what the hell are you supposed to be?" he grinder, tilting his head as he examined the new arrival.

At the same time, Batman—or perhaps someone watching all of this from behind the screen—was studying him just as carefully.

That eerie smile paired with the bloody chaos all around... plus his maniacal behavior from the very start—it was only natural that So Thanh thought of the one enemy Batman was known for: the Joker.

Batman really couldn't catch a break. Back in the day, just one Joker had flipped Gotham upside down. The guy had driven Batman nuts. And now, for some reason, Jokers were popping up everywhere. This one even seemed like a spiritual successor—another madman waging war against the world.

Even after traveling to another world to escape that daily cat-and-mouse with the Joker, what did he find here? Yet another Joker.

Beatrix imagined if he were Batman, he'd be cursing under his breath right now: Goddamn it, the Joker's still chasing me.

"Careful," Cid said aloud. "This one's dangerous."

He wasn't entirely sure who this bat-costumed lunatic was, but all signs pointed to him being on their side.

Still, this wasn't a situation to be optimistic about.

This bat-madman could be infected too. Or worse—a mutated freak. But Cid didn't think he was the one they needed to worry about.

He knew firsthand how strong "Mike" was—one of the strongest among the infected. Cid himself ranked among the top physical performers in the nine divisions, even without awakened powers. Aside from super powered individuals, barely anyone could outmatch him physically.

But before he could finish the thought, "Mike" suddenly charged forward. His speed was incredible, closing the gap to Batman in an instant, reaching out with his blood-soaked hand.

Batman didn't flinch. He simply leaned slightly to the side—the bloody fingers grazing past his nose. Then, lowering his center of gravity, his right hand shot out from under his cape and pressed against Mike's" chest.

The next moment, under Cid's stunned gaze, "Mike's" body exploded backward with a dull boom, smashing into a parked minivan with a loud crash, collapsing the side and flipping the vehicle onto its side.

Cid: "!?"

What kind of strength was that?

Even for an infected... wasn't this kind of power a bit too absurd?

And that bat-costumed freak just stood there calmly, hands tucked beneath his cape, ending a cold, unspeakable confidence—like a seasoned gunslinger sizing up his prey in a standoff at high noon.

Cid looked at him with complicated eyes.

What he didn't know was that Batman wasn't infected, and he didn't have superpowers.

What he did have was money.

As the saying goes: the poor rely on mutation; the rich rely on tech. Batman, no doubt, was the ultimate example of the latter.

He might not fly around in a tin suit like that guy next door who drops out of the sky screaming "justice," but Batman had no shortage of gadgets tucked into his utility belt.

Like just now—he'd used a micro rocket booster. It looked like a tiny button, but once activated, it released a massive burst of thrust.

This thing could be used in many ways: slap it on an enemy to send them flying, stick it to scenery to launch yourself forward like a wrecking ball, or just cosplay as a budget Iron Man.

Wayne Enterprises had developed a whole arsenal of such gadgets. Back in the training tutorial, Beatrix had to memorize all of them by heart—every function, every use.

Some of them were so outlandish they made him shout out loud: This is presidential motorcade-level stuff! The creativity was insane. If you could imagine it, Wayne Enterprises could build it.

But there was one harsh reality: Batman couldn't carry everything at once.

Beatrix had never thought inventory space would be an issue for Batman. After all, ever since Doraemon showed up with his magic pocket, every anime character basically had infinite storage.

Batman might not have that power, but he did have his high-tech belt. In cartoons, you'd see him pull out batarangs, grenades, grappling hooks, smoke bombs, oxygen tanks, even shark repellent from that belt like it was nothing.

But dreams are beautiful—reality hits hard. The game reminded Beatrix that Batman could only carry twelve pieces of equipment (plus the grappling hook) into battle. No more.

So every mission required careful gear selection. Outside of combat or missions, he could go back to the Batcave and switch loadouts. But not mid-fight.

"Mike," despite taking that brutal hit, showed no signs of real injury. He quickly crawled out from the wrecked car, still wearing that twisted smile.

"Not bad. That was a neat little trick. But—"

Before he could finish, Batman raised his hand and tossed something glowing with a faint blue light in a wide arc toward him.

"Mike" dodged nimbly—but the object acted like a magnet. The moment it neared him, it shot toward his body and stuck.

Ssszzzzz...!

The tiny device released a high-voltage current. Electric arcs wrapped around "Mike," making his entire body convulse, black smoke pouring from his skin.

It was a stun charge—once it latched on, it would unleash a powerful electric shock.

But after a brief seizure and more smoke, "Mike" tilted his head, still staggering forward. His skin cracked and scorched, his face twisted into an even more grotesque grin.

Beatrix frowned.

He tanked that? What kind of monster is this guy? That health bar must be insane...

Well, in that case—

Batman raised his hand again.

Boom!

A small sphere exploded near "Mike's" feet, instantly releasing a rapidly expanding adhesive gel.

This black-tech glue, compressed into grenade form, burst open and inflated at lightning speed upon contact with air.

And the result—

"Mike" was swallowed by the goo and frozen in place like he'd been stuffed into a giant cotton ball. Within three seconds, it hardened into a statue-like shape.

He remained stuck in that pose, blood-covered hand reaching out, fingers locked just an inch from Batman's mask—completely immobilized.

Batman stood motionless, unflinching, as if everything had been under control from the start.

Cid looked at the bat-costumed freak, completely speechless.

So... this guy was a wizard or something?