Chapter 32: Departure, and a New Madness

"Alan, you mean the pure Dionysus factor doesn't require the Blade of Redemption and has no side effects at all?"

Bruce and Alfred had been resurrected, completely intact. Nearby, the clown Arthur looked depressed, muttering to himself about his lost hair and eyebrows.

"Bat, I thought you knew," Alan replied.

How could I possibly know? Bruce thought. Regardless of whether the Dionysus factor was pure or not, it was a treasure in the eyes of any organization. No one would ever show it off, let alone leave it lying around.

Bruce didn't dwell on the problem and felt a surge of happiness. A pure Dionysus factor with no side effects was like finding a priceless treasure. There was no need to spend years researching it; he could just use it to save people at critical moments, a favor that would make others eternally indebted to him. Besides, the pool was under Wayne Manor, which meant it belonged to him.

"How should we deal with this bad student?" Alan asked, pointing at the now-autistic Joker. "Why not imprison him in Arkham Asylum? He and I were fellow patients before."

When Arthur noticed Alan's gaze, he curled up in fear, looking utterly pitiful.

"Forget it. Transfer him to Blackgate Prison," Bruce said. "In the name of Wayne Group, I've invested one hundred million dollars to upgrade their security system. I doubt he'll be able to escape again."

"Listen to yourself," Alan said sourly. "It's great to have money, isn't it?"

Obviously, Bruce didn't understand the pun. The reason he was worried about keeping the Joker in Arkham was that he was afraid someone would rescue him again. As for Alan not being in Arkham? He came and went as he pleased. It wasn't like he ever actually arrested any criminals. These days, he was just having fun.

"Principal, if you don't invite me to dinner, I'm leaving," Alan stood up and announced.

"What principal?" Bruce was a little confused by the sudden new nickname. He had gotten used to being called Bat, but this was new.

"You still don't admit it," Alan explained with a mean-spirited grin. "Our Gotham University of Criminals is dedicated to cultivating criminal talent. Principal, you've been training criminals to improve through your arrests, hoping that one day they can step onto the international stage."

"…"

Bruce finally understood the hidden meaning. After he became Batman, he had adopted a no-kill principle, so when he arrested criminals, he only had them tried and detained. This resulted in them escaping from time to time to cause trouble again. The criminals were indeed growing and improving after learning their lessons again and again.

"I'm really leaving now." Alan looked back every few steps, as if hoping to be stopped.

"The young masters and young ladies will be back soon. I was just about to prepare some food. Would you like to have lunch with us?" Alfred, ever the gentleman, understood and extended the invitation.

"How could I refuse such a kind invitation?" Alan was shy for one second, then said bluntly the next, "I don't eat cilantro, thank you."

"Of course." Alfred remained as polite as ever and took the elevator upstairs to order the food.

Near noon, the five young heroes returned safely, with no idea that their master had already died once. Of course, Bruce wouldn't tell them, lest they worry.

After devouring his food, Alan picked his teeth with a toothpick, held between his pinky and thumb, and said leisurely, "I'm half full. I feel very happy."

"Alan, if that's not enough, I'll prepare more," Alfred said kindly. After all, Alan had saved both his and Bruce's lives. He already regarded him as one of their own.

"Pack some desserts for me to take home." Alan started to stir things up again. He turned to Bruce. "Bat, stand up. I have something to announce."

"What is it? You want me to stand up?" Although Bruce had his doubts, he still stood up.

"I declare that everyone here is garbage."

"…"

Are you polite? Causing trouble while you're eating.

Facing a room full of murderous eyes, Alan said with a mean look, "Bat, it's your turn to play."

Bruce sat down silently and went back to cutting the steak on his plate. If this continues, he thought, this family will fall apart sooner or later.

"It's packed." At this time, Alfred brought over the take-out box.

"I'm heading back to the asylum." There was no way a box of dessert would survive the trip home; Alan ate it all on the way.

Lying on his exclusive bed in his exclusive hospital gown, Alan contemplated the three major philosophical questions of life: Who am I? Where do I come from? Where am I going?

[TIMELINE ANCHOR LOCKED. HOST MAY NOW TRAVEL.]

[AVAILABLE PROFESSIONS: ALCHEMIST, MAGE, SHAMAN.]

[REMINDER: THE EXPERIENCE REQUIREMENT FOR THE SECOND PROFESSION IS INCREASED BY 30%.]

He sat up in shock. Alan looked at the system prompt box in front of him.

"The system is out! I don't want the Mage profession! Change it for me immediately!" Alan put his hands on his hips and said arrogantly, "I want the Ghost Swordsman and the Berserker. Are you looking down on me, a dedicated support-healer player?"

The stalemate lasted for a long time. Alan was determined not to choose, letting time pass by.

[SELECTION TIMED OUT. ASSIGNING RANDOM PROFESSION…]

[CONGRATULATIONS, HOST. YOU HAVE BEEN ASSIGNED THE [ALCHEMIST] PROFESSION.]

[AVAILABLE TIMELINES ARE AS FOLLOWS:]

[CAMPS OF JUSTICE: S.H.I.E.L.D., THE LEAGUE OF GENTLEMEN, WINTER GUARD.]

[CAMPS OF EVIL: HYDRA, A.I.M., ATLANTIS.]

If you don't choose, the system will choose for you. Alchemist it was.

"I'm sorry, Celia. I can no longer be your guardian warrior," Alan collapsed on the bed with a pale face, no longer interested in choosing a camp. He said sadly, "The glory of the Arad continent cannot shine on this world that needs salvation."

Meanwhile, Dean Sharp was watching the surveillance video in his office. It was rare for Alan to come back during the day, and he suspected this guy was up to no good.

"What is he gesturing at the air for?" Dean Sharp frowned and guessed, "Maybe he hasn't taken his medicine recently, so his condition is getting worse. What a pity for such a good young man."

[SELECTION TIMED OUT. ASSIGNING RANDOM FACTION…]

[CONGRATULATIONS, HOST. YOU HAVE BEEN ASSIGNED TO [HYDRA].]

Dean Sharp was filled with emotion, and the next second, his eyes widened into the size of saucers. In the surveillance video, Alan had disappeared out of thin air.

"Again!" Dean Sharp personally went to Alan's room, rummaged under the bed, and finally confirmed that he was gone. He hurried back to his office and made the calls. "Fury, he's missing, um… yes…"

"Amanda, the target…"

During World War II, in a city occupied by the SS Division, Dr. Zola looked at the unusual young man in front of him and said earnestly, "Alan, the organization has a mission for you."

Snap…

"Hail Hydra!"

Alan gave a solemn military salute and said firmly, "I promise to complete the mission assigned by the organization. Even if the enemy tempts me with ten blonde, blue-eyed, long-legged, G-cup beauties wearing lace suspenders and white stockings, they will only get one word out of me… 'Nice!'"

***********

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