Gotham is often referred to as the "City of Darkness." But this is not just because the cloudy sky hangs over the city. In fact, Gotham is soaked in a rich Gothic atmosphere—somber, secretive, dangerous. Steeples hide in the thick mist, and bone-chilling rain sways nightly. This atmosphere is shaped not only by the unique natural environment but also by the city's devotion to philosophy and art.
Even in the most violent mob era—rife with turf wars, shootings, and family blood feuds—the Twelve Families were far from mere gunmen; they possessed their own cultured air and artistic pursuits. Outsiders might find them refined almost to the point of nobility.
Such a profound cultural heritage, of course, was not formed overnight. When the Irish landed here many religious cultural texts were brought ashore, leading missionaries to first build churches, then libraries.
First came the Gotham Library, then Gotham University, and finally the Gotham Madmen, filled with philosophical thinking and artistic sensibility. Over the years, countless minds have poured their madness into this place: all sorts of unpublished manuscripts and biographies scribbled in insanity, truths glimpsed by chance...
The salt once sprinkled here flowed with the muddy sewage into the blood of Gothamites, settling in their brains, and then replaying in their writings. Book after book revealing the truth is sealed within the library of Gotham University, seemingly like the ravings of madmen, yet one can almost find the entire truth of the City of Darkness here.
There are few preserved items from the old campus of Gotham University. Besides several historical buildings, the only thing not relocated is the Gotham University Library. Aside from its high historical and cultural value, no one seems interested in exploring the vast troves hidden within its walls.
Victor, who has taught at Gotham University for years, often enjoys visiting the Gotham University Library to read. The library mainly preserves texts on religious culture and the arts. Victor is particularly fond of philosophical works from the Enlightenment and visits here during his leisure to delve into them.
As Victor reentered the library, many leisurely afternoons came to mind. But the library at night looked quite different. He had never ventured here after dark. The rows of bookshelves and somewhat worn wooden stairs did not appear as serene as during the day. Under the faint light streaming in through Gothic pointed windows, intricate patterns formed mysterious signs, tinged with an unsettling aura. Sculptures that were elegant and solemn by day took on the semblance of silent watchers, and paintings on the walls seemed to come to life.
He shouldn't let the city fall into endless night. Victor followed Constantine deeper inside, pondering that darkness would bring too many things back to Gotham, capable of even swallowing death itself.
Through the hall, swinging open the iron door adorned with dense and complex patterns, the reading area's shelves became increasingly compact. Ascending via the spiral staircase, their silhouettes flickered near a row of pointed windows. Only when Constantine pushed open a door Victor had never entered, even failed to notice before, did he realize this library concealed yet more dark secrets.
This was a whole new section, seemingly seldom visited. The Renaissance-inspired statues had vanished here, replaced by peculiar monster carvings; graceful rococo-style paintings turned into surreal, yet overly classical, bizarre graffiti.
The hall remained full of shelves, but lacked books. Instead, bundles of unknown manuscripts overflowed the racks, many haphazardly piled in corners, now shrouded in thick dust.
Circumventing the shelf on the left led them to a door. Constantine opened it, and before Victor entered, he noticed a metal nameplate nailed beside the door reading "Rodriguez Pen Pals Society."
Inside was a circular study. At the center stood a large globe, with a spacious desk behind it, accompanied by shelves. Instinctively, Victor glanced upward; the circular ceiling's chandelier was uniquely shaped, representing one planet after another. However, they were neither of the Solar System nor any known star system Victor was aware of.
"Those are the stars," Constantine answered Victor's unasked question.
"Stars?"
"In the cosmos exists a region that cannot be observed, known as 'The Depth of the Stars'," Constantine also looked up, observing the spheres emitting faint glow amidst the darkness. "Some who heard the calls of stars began searching for their origin. Most failed, but a few glimpsed the vistas of the stars' depth."
"They cannot tell anyone because any sliver of information drives one mad. Hence, they buried their sightings under layers of dark stories. Only those who've shared the same experience can comprehend. This way, they forged a secret alliance through written words, communicating across centuries, sharing their visions, while... probing the secrets within the stars' depth."
"To embark on such dangerous endeavors often leads to consequences more frightening than death. Nearly all went mad. Surviving ones frantically warned others to cease peering, eventually quieting, maintaining mere traces of communication until the arrival of a certain individual."
"Schiller Rodriguez?" Victor asked.
Constantine nodded. He walked over to the reception area by the window, settling on the sofa as Victor followed suit. "But not the Schiller you know," he said.
"Who is it then?"
Constantine faintly shook his head: "No one knows who he is, where he came from, or what he truly wants. He merely appears suddenly, then vanishes like a nameless passerby."
"What did he do?"
"He reformed the pen pals society, restored global observers' communication, and then..."
"And then what?" Victor squinted slightly, half-speculating, half-confirming, "Re-exploring the depth of the stars?"
Constantine nodded lightly. Victor sat down, resting his hand on the armrest, and sighed, "Such a classic horror movie opening."
"From hereon, the storyline seems predictable," Constantine said, "An overambitious researcher rallies worldwide observers to study forbidden knowledge, inevitably leading them toward demise. The only problem is, this researcher is Schiller Rodriguez; he never plays by the rules."
Victor glanced at the ring on his hand, nodded, and said, "Indeed. So what did he do?"
"He didn't just want to observe, he wanted to get involved. So, he embarked on a tremendously crazy plan..."
Victor's hand paused, looking at Constantine, said, "He wouldn't want to summon those things from deep within the stars to Earth, would he?"
"I told you, he doesn't play by common rules." Constantine sighed lightly, "There are just too many people who summon all kinds of mysterious beings to Earth. Shiller is different—he intends to send himself there."
Victor's movements completely froze. He looked at Constantine, seemingly unable to believe what he had heard. Constantine lowered his eyelids and continued, "To be precise, he doesn't just want the beings in the depths of the stars to see him, but he wants to make them have to contact him."
"...Did he succeed?"
Constantine nodded again, placing a black notebook on the table, then said, "He not only successfully went there but also successfully returned. Moreover, he brought back quite a lot of useful things. Besides strength, all the forbidden knowledge concerning the depths of the stars is preserved in the Gotham University library."
Victor thought of those manuscripts he saw outside the study and said, "Are those all left by him?"
"Not just him, all the knowledge investigated by members of the Rodriguez Pen Pal Society is left here. And my main purpose in bringing you here is to find this."
Constantine walked behind the desk, opened the drawer, took out a wine-red notebook, and placed it in front of Victor.
Victor picked it up and looked at it, finding recorded many names and contact addresses. Most names were pseudonyms: "Writer of Darkness," "Blair Witch," "Gypsy Fortune Teller," "Multi-faced Apprentice," etc., and the contact addresses were all very peculiar, mostly not residences but mailboxes of some outlying wilderness protection stations.
"These are all members of the Pen Pal Society." Constantine sat down again and said, "Someone among them must have also gotten a ring, we need to contact them."
"I don't understand." Victor closed the notebook, then said, "What exactly is this ring? Why does Shiller want to give it to us?"
Constantine did not answer directly. He stood up and left the study, quickly returning with a roll of manuscripts, handing them to Victor.
Victor hesitated a bit before opening it, he said, "Are you sure this can be viewed?"
"Rest assured, those outside are safe and harmless. Those that cannot be viewed are stored in the secret room."
Victor untied the string and flattened the piece of paper. He immediately noticed that the texture of the paper and the traces of ink seemed to have some age, likely notebooks from the 18th to 19th century.
"Mysterious fog... The distant source... The intersection of mystery and reality..." Victor looked up, "Is this... the Gray Mist?"
"The Nameless Fog." Constantine replied, "That's its true name. I've seen all the records here, and there's the least information about this Outer God, but without a doubt, he's related to Shiller."
Victor recalled the scene he once saw of Shiller transforming into a mist, it was clearly not ordinary fog, looking very mysterious, yet fitting perfectly with Shiller's temperament.
Victor opened the notebook, continued to look down, quickly capturing the keywords: "Transforming thoughts into reality... Power of Dream Creation... Is this really possible?"
"Nothing is impossible," Constantine said, "There are too many powerful mysterious forces in this world, didn't you just witness the miracle of resurrection?"
Victor reluctantly accepted this kind of statement. After all, compared to turning thoughts into reality, resurrection is even more miraculous. In a certain sense, ordinary people can also turn thoughts into reality, just the process is rather cumbersome. But it's not against cosmic rules for the thoughts and ideas of the human race to transform into reality, but resurrection is different—the physics don't exist anymore.
"Can what I write become real?" Concerning this part, Victor was still somewhat skeptical.
Constantine nodded and said, "Yes. But the Grey Ring is not a wishing machine, not everything you write can come true. It's like a novel, the logic must be reasonable, the imagination rich, and more importantly, it must resonate with human emotions."
"Emotions..." Victor suddenly realized, "Is this why the manifestation is a lantern ring?"
"Kind of," Constantine said, "Whether it's logic or emotions, it's all to let the reader immerse themselves, to get them absorbed in the story and dream. Only then can the creations be transformed into reality."