Days as a Spiritual Mentor in American Comics-Chapter 4429 - 3517: Research on Cats and Dogs (28)

Schiller—this should have been a name well-known across Battleworld.

To be precise, what people are familiar with in Battleworld is "Greed." Most superheroes can't distinguish between the two, nor do they realize that both are merely different facets of one individual. Some even think they're alternate versions from different universes. Regardless, Schiller has garnered significant fame.

However, when Battleworld launched, not everyone logged in at the first moment. Usually, only players who had participated in beta testing accepted the invitation to enter this mysterious space without hesitation and queued up right away.

The majority of people unfamiliar with this kind of game would naturally be cautious. In fact, most Batmans would opt to stash the invitation somewhere secure, in case some malevolent entity suddenly burst out of it one day.

Gaining the trust of so many Batmans has proven to be quite the herculean task, one that the creator of Battleworld has been striving to address. Given their reputation for uncanny capabilities, the progress made has been no small feat.

It's mostly because, regardless of the universe, a Batman can pretty much be synonymous with "unlucky." When confronted with unsolvable challenges in the cosmos, they'll try anything. The Injustice Batman is a prime example of this.

However, this also led to players entering Battleworld at staggered times, not simultaneously.

And upon realizing his notoriety across the multiverse, "Greed" deliberately controlled the frequency at which he entered the game. This effectively mitigated his reputation somewhat, turning him into a near-legendary figure.

Batman isn't the type to share intel freely, even with other versions of himself from alternate universes. They'll always hold something back, regardless of how persistently the other side inquires. If there isn't enough valuable information to trade for, they'll never provide detailed answers.

The same goes for the other beta players. Although they understand what's going on, they aren't likely to go blabbing about it everywhere. After all, there are risks involved in crossing Schiller.

This has resulted in later Battleworld players having insufficient knowledge about Schiller. The two teams of Batmans and Supermen who recently arrived in this universe are precisely part of this uninformed group.

To circle back, had they known more about Schiller, they never would have chosen this universe as their next quest.

Since the open beta of Battleworld launched, the queue priority system has already cycled through quite a few universes multiple times. Logically speaking, they should've hit every universe at least once. But Schiller's universe remains conspicuously absent from anyone's itinerary. Those in the know actively avoid it, even if they draw it as their next quest—opting to treat the lost points as a necessary sacrifice.

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Compared to "Greed," it's "Arrogance" that's even less inclined to let his universe be disturbed. To go further, he doesn't want his life disrupted by interdimensional visitors of any kind.

However, as the number of players joining Battleworld continues to surge, that becomes less and less feasible. The moment he agreed to this operational model for Battleworld, he already foresaw the eventual outcome.

At this point, he can only settle for second-best: ensuring that these interdimensional visitors don't focus their attentions squarely on him.

That, however, is easier said than done. First of all, besides his connections with every single member of the Justice League, there's the undeniable impact he has exerted on Gotham over the years. These traces can't easily be hidden. Eventually, interdimensional visitors will hear of his name and insert themselves into his life in all sorts of ways.

Other people might be easier to deal with, but there's one particular problem: Batman. These folks will stop at nothing until they get their intel. If they set their sights on you, it's not just a disruption to the rhythm of your life—it completely eliminates your ability to even have one.

After a period of investigation and introspection, Schiller has finally managed to devise a barely workable solution.

Schiller isn't a superhero, nor is he a supervillain, but he does have a codename.

In Marvel, people might refer to "Greed" as "Doctor." But since "Doctor" and "Professor" are derived from the same term, and the Marvel Universe has had its fair share of notable doctors, such as Dr. Connors, Dr. Otto, and Dr. Ethan, simply using the term "Doctor" becomes quite ambiguous.

In contrast, in the Marvel Universe, when someone says "Professor," they're generally referring to Professor X.

But in DC—especially among Gothamites in Schiller's universe—the default interpretation of "Professor" refers to Professor Rodriguez.

Of course, this only applies to those in the know. Most people are aware merely that there's such a "Professor," but few know exactly who he is. After all, Schiller himself has never publicly taken credit for his contributions to Gotham.

His contemporaries who are in the know have either left Gotham—say, the Old Godfather and Alberto—or refuse to say anything about it, like Gordon and Cobblepot.

So, in reality, as long as Schiller keeps his mouth shut, most people lack the evidence to prove that he's the enigmatic "Professor."

There's another advantage—it's that Schiller has no multiversal counterparts. He exists in almost no other universes.

When faced with an unknown individual with no prior reputation in their own universe, Gothamites—even Batmans—are far more likely to have their attention drawn to those long-suspected rogues routinely active on Gotham's streets.

Ask any Batman which rogue might operate under the codename "Professor," and the first guesses will invariably be Professor Pig, followed by educated or former-professor villains like Scarecrow or Mr. Freeze—not some unfamiliar name that's never popped up before.

You can't blame Batman for these assumptions. While Gotham has its fair share of talent, the villains frequently seen alongside Joker possess more than mere notoriety—they've earned their place in Gotham's rogues' gallery.

Using this dynamic, Schiller can easily deflect the gaze of interdimensional visitors. The recently reinstated Gotham University academic, Jonathan Crane, is the perfect scapegoat.

There is just one prerequisite: ensuring Bruce keeps quiet.

As the insider of all insiders, if Bruce decides to start blabbering, this entire plan collapses.

Fortunately, while Bruce occasionally oscillates between lucidity and madness, his mind remains generally intact. He knows that with his academic standing already irreparable, offending his doctoral mentor would guarantee he'd be a perpetual university dropout. In a moment of rare insight, Bruce refrains from tearing Schiller's plans apart, allowing them to proceed smoothly.

Schiller and Victor didn't linger long in the reception area. Shortly thereafter, they returned to the precinct's main hall, where they encountered Gotham University's Dean Shivana, who was currently engaged in conversation with Gordon.

The dean seemed visibly agitated but raised an eyebrow the moment he saw Schiller approach. Gordon immediately realized the inevitability of himself and Shivana being implicated in the staff food poisoning incident.

Oddly enough, this realization completely eased Gordon's nerves. He glanced momentarily at the interrogation room where Jonathan was being held, then escorted Shivana, Schiller, and Victor to his office.

Inside the interrogation room, Jonathan was bored out of his mind.

He knew that, with the Gotham Police Department's level of technical expertise, they had absolutely no chance of acquiring key evidence that would incriminate him. Forget James Gordon—assemble the entire Justice League, and they'd still come up empty. Nobody could best him in the domain of chemistry.

That's why he was caught off guard when Batman walked in.

Jonathan wasn't foolish. At a glance, he could tell this wasn't their universe's Bruce Wayne, miraculously sane for once, but rather some unfamiliar Batman from another universe.

Even so, Jonathan had nothing to fear from alternate-universe Batmans. "Go ahead, search for evidence," he thought. "If by some miracle you find it, I'll hand over the top chemist spot myself."

"Professor Crane," Batman spoke as he entered.

Jonathan was somewhat taken aback: this Batman seemed quite polite—a far cry from the jerkish Bruce Wayne of his own universe. That Bruce had certainly never addressed him as "Professor" while attending school.

"I believe you've been wrongfully accused," the Batman continued.

Jonathan had just begun to nod but, pausing thoughtfully, squinted at him. "Wait a moment. What are you saying? Are you implying you suspect it was me?"

"No, I suspect you've been framed," the Batman clarified, seating himself across the table. "I know you're a renowned chemist, and you wouldn't employ such sloppy methods to poison anyone. The circumstances are highly suspicious, and I'm still investigating."

Jonathan opened his mouth, then shut it again.

He had to admit, this Batman had keen insight. Recognizing his high level of expertise and pointing out that tainting food and drink was embarrassingly amateurish—these observations weren't wrong.

But, as it happens, Jonathan hadn't intended to kill or humiliate anyone. It had merely been a prank—a particular way of introducing himself.

The truth was, Jonathan had felt rather helpless about it all.

To be fair, he would've loved to employ more sophisticated methods, but, sadly, Gotham University faculty weren't your typical Gotham street toughs—hulking and physically rugged types.

Rather, these academics were notoriously fragile: sneezing at the change of seasons, perpetually cycling through sick leave during flu outbreaks.

As everyone knows, conditions like vomiting and diarrhea are natural mechanisms wherein the body rejects toxins—a self-saving reflex that's evolved over thousands of years to expel harmful substances quickly, minimizing damage.

Introduce a blood-borne or neurotoxic substance, and these professors wouldn't even have time to reject it. Given their frailty, even a trace amount would have them dropping dead left and right. Jonathan wasn't attempting mass murder, so more advanced approaches simply weren't an option.

So, it wasn't that Jonathan lacked attack power—it was that his opponents' health bars were too short. With no intent to kill, he couldn't even launch a proper strike. Resorting to passive skills was the only safe course.

This accident, ironically, had led this random alternate-universe Batman to believe he wasn't the culprit.

Jonathan found himself in a moral quandary: should he explain or not?

His original assumption had been that Gotham PD's incompetence would merely land him a night in holding before they'd be forced to let him go—worst case, he'd bail himself out.

But to explain things to Batman would equate to confessing. That could extend his detention to a week or more, and under suspicion of significant wrongdoing, his bail would skyrocket to an unaffordable sum.

After pondering a moment, Jonathan decided against clarifying. After all, he'd only just resumed his post at Gotham University; the last thing he wanted was another trip straight back to Arkham Asylum.

More importantly, he'd invested in a beachfront property in Gotham's southeast based on James Gordon's advice, hoping to profit as land prices surged. Should university termination or imprisonment render him unable to keep up with property taxes or maintenance fees, he'd lose that property entirely.

Say what you will about mental instability or antisocial tendencies—at the end of the day, even criminals go home to grocery shop and cook. Ever since Gotham turned into a tourist hotspot, housing costs had been climbing steadily higher. Without a permanent residence, even supervillains would be left to shuffle around the streets.

And Jonathan himself wasn't exactly sturdy. With winter fast approaching, homelessness would almost certainly spell his demise.

Still, Jonathan had no intention of letting Batman delve further. While he was confident Batman's investigation would yield no results, this wasn't someone you wanted scrutinizing your past indiscretions.

Clearing his throat, Jonathan said, "I didn't expect you to believe me, Batman. This food poisoning incident really had nothing to do with me."

"I don't know who's pulling strings at my banquet, but rest assured, I'll make them pay. Meanwhile, one thing's clear: this is my affair. It has nothing to do with you. I suggest you stay out of it—don't blame me if you get hurt."