Chapter Seventy-Seven: The Mystery of the Dark Knight (Part Two)

Slipping quietly out the back door of the residence, Angulan walked the nocturnal streets of the temple district, her gaze fixed on their target, her expression troubled. “Captain, can’t we just go straight up and take action? I honestly think warning someone before hitting them is really foolish.”

His face concealed, the only visible part of the boy was his mouth, lips moving as he replied, “But it makes me happy, and besides, no one will know since my face is covered.”

It was a strong argument, leaving the girl speechless. She sighed deeply, abandoning her last attempt at persuasion.

“No... don’t come any closer... If you do, I’ll scream!” declared the lone woman returning home late.

The drunken man, his face twisted into a lewd grin, replied, “Heh heh heh, you can scream yourself hoarse, but no one will save you!”

“Help! Help! Somebody rescue me!”

“Haha! You came out at night just to be touched, didn’t you!”

The so-called drunk was actually “Red Dog,” a rising star in the Fire Salamander Gang, and since he was out looking for trouble, he naturally paid close attention to his surroundings.

Thus, when he noticed the woman before him suddenly stop screaming, her eyes no longer frantic but instead filled with incomprehension, as if something unbelievable was happening behind him, Red Dog spun around immediately. In the moonlight, he saw two shadowy figures, pitch-black and unidentified.

This wasn’t a television drama or a movie; without proper lighting, appearing in all black at night was hardly dashing, nor would it frighten villains into stumbling. Victor regrettably realized this fact—but it didn’t stop him from uttering the lines he wanted.

“You must release this lady. Your actions are not those of a proper citizen; you have betrayed this city!”

Ignoring the nonsense, Red Dog glared fiercely at the pair. Now accustomed to the darkness, his eyes saw much more clearly: the two shadowy shapes were people, dressed in strange and repulsive outfits.

In the medieval era—even a fantastical one—close-fitting leather suits hadn’t yet been invented, let alone a bat-armored suit that outlined every muscle of the boy’s physique, making it almost unbearable to look at up close.

Red Dog then turned his head toward Catwoman. To put it crudely, for a brief moment, he was aroused—and then let out a bloodcurdling scream, for Catwoman delivered a merciless kick to his body.

It seemed that introducing Catwoman’s attire in the Middle Ages was indeed too avant-garde, Victor mused; it brought not fear, but desire. The youthful drunk’s desires were noticed by Angulan, prompting her reflexive knee strike.

Truthfully, Angulan’s figure was far from impressive, but the Catwoman suit she wore was padded in several places to create an illusion.

From this perspective, Red Dog’s suffering was rather unjust; he couldn’t yet comprehend that in this world, your eyes can deceive you, your ears can deceive you, even your sense of touch can deceive you.

Thankfully, Catwoman remembered Batman’s pre-mission instructions: no fatalities, so she held back. Still, it was doubtful he would rise again under his own power that night.

In the darkness, three other Fire Salamander Gang members surged forward, while the Ram Gang’s lookouts stood frozen, bewildered as the costumed strangers usurped their turf. They couldn’t make sense of the situation.

Two figures in black faced three thugs—a decidedly unfair battle, for Batman was well prepared. His bat suit was crafted from genuine leather in a single piece, offering excellent protection against blows.

What did “single-piece leather” mean? It was one sheet, one suit, with no seams or stitches—a whole, thick hide, fitting as if it had grown from his body, an alchemical marvel of craftsmanship.

Even better, since it was made in “happy mode,” Victor remained energetic after finishing it. Just as one could play games all night, but fall asleep after half an hour of studying—it was the same principle.

...

This exhilarating one-sided beating was carried out with Victor fully embodying his chosen character, displaying all manner of “medieval money powers.” The close-fitting suit, gloves, elbow guards, knee pads, various accessories—all crafted from raw materials, his imagination serving as superpower. Victor was pleased to recall so many details. As the saying goes: the accuracy was astonishing!

After soundly flattening the three unlucky gang members, the boy and girl slipped out of the alley with ease, seeking their next crime scene.

According to Victor’s plan, three encounters in one night would signal time to rest. But barely had they gotten far before Batman and Catwoman stumbled upon a group—a party carrying torches, clad in Temerian lily armor: knights.

...

Time seemed to stand still. The two groups, so starkly different in style, suddenly faced each other. Batman and Catwoman’s outlandish costumes delivered a staggering shock to the noble knights—male and female alike.

At the center of the knights, a protected noblewoman—her skin whiter than snow, lips crimson, eyes narrow and intense—fixed her gaze on Batman’s suit, which accentuated every masculine muscle. Her eyes sparkled.

Sensing trouble, Victor quickly clapped twice—the prearranged signal with Angulan, meaning they’d split up and escape. Angulan had her route; Victor had his. The goal: slip into the sewers and evade pursuit, then return home.

Seeing the costumed pair separate and flee, the knights hesitated, unsure what to do. Yet “Princess Adda,” who had already considered her options, recovered first, commanding loudly, “Catch the man—I want him alive!”

Victor was surprised; he’d barely taken two steps when the noblewoman reacted so swiftly. Using a turn to observe, he saw that although the knights were mounted, the bustling streets prevented them from galloping freely.

As he ran, the boy couldn’t help but remark inwardly: tonight, the people of Vizima likely wouldn’t realize they were witnessing, centuries ahead of its time, a staple action-movie street chase.

And from the perspective of the medieval audience in the merchant district...

“The fugitive in black leather, with a bat emblem on his chest and bulging muscles, is such a scandalously dressed man—his codpiece especially unforgettable! This attire is downright shameful!

And those pursuing him are actually the Temerian royal guard!?

It’s strange enough they’re deployed to catch a streaker, but even stranger that Princess Adda—King Foltest’s eldest daughter—is personally commanding them, and is among the closest to the costumed man.”

This city chase scene contained every blockbuster element: overturning vendors, knocking down obstacles, leaping over passersby, sliding under carriages, squeezing through gaps—thrilling and dangerous moments abounded.

With his tools and finely crafted accessories, Batman Victor lived up to his self-styled titles: Parkour King of Kaer Morhen, Extreme Physique Champion, and more. The knights, relying on their horses, chased hard but never caught up.