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🕑 Added 2025-07-27 17:40:04 +0000 UTCChapter 266: The Silence of the Lambs
"Zombies don't feel pain, or rather, they don't feel anything at all," Midnight said, dismissively brushing off Constantine's "dead human rights" argument. "What excites me is the roar of the crowd. Voodoo practitioners can draw power from different sources, and those roars can be one of mine. And defeating an evil spirit takes power."
"And a bit of cunning," Constantine added.
"Oh, Constantine, I've always had faith in your cunning," Midnight replied, a cold smile playing on his lips. "I had a long chat with your friend—you're both insincere and heartless."
As Midnight spoke, blood splattered onto Constantine's face from the stage above. He merely wiped the grime away with a blank expression, then shrugged. "Nobody's perfect."
"Just make sure you can handle it. Remember, if you can't bring yourself to do what's necessary, we're all screwed. And probably all of New York, too."
"Don't worry about it, mate."
Constantine then asked, "Where's Lester?"
"The lamb belongs in the stockyard, of course."
Constantine knew Midnight's "stockyard" referred to the private little prison where he kept his reanimated corpses.
"Take me to see him," he said. "I'll calm him down."
In the silent corridors of the small prison, footsteps echoed.
Hearing the sound, the listless Gary Lester suddenly lifted his head, looking out beyond the bars. He'd been there for ages since Constantine left, seeing no one and hearing nothing but the oppressive silence—it was practically driving him mad.
"Hey, mate."
A moment later, Lester saw Constantine, his friend, suddenly appear outside the bars and greet him. This made the already extremely anxious man cling to him like a lifeline, frantically scrambling to the bars. "John! Man, what's going on? Doesn't he have the powder? Why won't he give me the powder? Why did he lock me up?"
"Uh, well..."
"John, I'm so scared. I thought he was going to kill me... please, make him give me some of the drug, John, I'm begging you!"
Constantine was familiar with this state; the more desperate he was, the easier he was to trick.
"Don't be scared, mate, you'll be fine," he comforted Lester, pulling away the hand that was gripping his clothes. "But you need to stay down here a bit longer. No drugs for now—remember what we're here for? That thing, Mors, isn't dealt with yet."
"It recognizes you, it wants you." Constantine gestured to Papa Midnite standing nearby. "We just need you to lure it close, then Midnight will take care of it—and then, this whole thing will be over."
"No, John, please, I can't stand that monster—you don't know what it'll do! You don't understand how I feel!"
Constantine remembered the vegetarian he'd met on the street and shook his head, replying, "No, I do know. I know exactly what you mean. But we don't have any other options. We have to deal with it—you let it escape, remember? You're responsible for this."
Facing his friend's accusation, Lester was speechless, but still a bit hesitant. "But..."
"Mate, have I ever lied to you?" Constantine patiently cajoled. "You have to trust me, we're friends, right?"
"Yes, John, of course I trust you..."
Watching Lester slowly calm down, Constantine winked at him and gave him an "ok" sign. "Everything's under control, mate, no need to worry. The plan's going smoothly—this time tomorrow, we'll be heading home."
When the two walked out of the stockyard, Midnight gave Constantine that familiar, mocking smile again. It was like a sharp carving knife, relentlessly digging into Constantine's emotional wounds, making him bleed profusely.
"That poor sod told me you've been friends since childhood..."
"Shut up, I'm sick of it."
Constantine snapped back coldly and ignored Midnight, taking the elevator straight back to his room. Cody's room was next door, but there was no sound from inside; she was probably already asleep.
Constantine wearily stripped off his soaked clothes, feeling sticky all over—he'd been drenched after hours of running around in the rain.
Is there anything that can truly make you cry anymore, Constantine?
The thought inexplicably flashed through his mind, but he quickly dismissed it.
I'm just tired, that's why I'm overthinking, he silently told himself. I need a shower, then some sleep.
But when he pulled open the bathroom door, he froze—an elderly nun was sitting on the toilet, clutching a crucifix, staring fixedly at him.
He recognized the nun: Anne Marie.
"Jesus Christ!" he wailed, clutching his head and rushing out of the bathroom. "What did I do to deserve this?!"
But when he opened the wardrobe to get dressed, he saw two more inside.
Frank, Benjamin... he knew them just as well.
It wasn't until Constantine saw a pair of feet sticking out from under the curtain that he finally couldn't take it anymore. The accumulated stress of recent days surged into his mind, threatening to burst his skull.
"Enough!"
He yanked open the curtain, and sure enough, saw the familiar face beneath it—it was Emma.
"What the hell do you want?!" he roared. "Why are you goddamn filling my room with dead people?!"
"Every day, every single day! I have dead people following me in London, and now I have dead people following me in New York! Appearing in my room every day, do you even get paid for this?!"
However, the four pale faces remained expressionless, their four silent eyes quietly watching Constantine.
"Goddamn speak! I'm telling you to speak!"
Still, there was no sound, just pairs of eyes staring at Constantine as if he were an insect.
"How dare you look down on me! What do you want me to say? That Avanti killed you, so I'm sad—of course I'm sad, do you understand?! It almost killed me too, damn it!"
He completely broke down, yelling hysterically: "You all knew the risks, we gambled big, we put everything on the line—and guess what? Sometimes gambling loses!"
"Just like Lester, he's about to become a bargaining chip too—but do you think I didn't try to find another way?!"
At this, he gritted his teeth and said fiercely, "No, there is no goddamn other way! We only have this one path, and this is the damn fate of a sorcerer: solving problems with twisted, conscience-violating, crooked methods. Don't think about a perfect ending, there's no optimal solution. This isn't a fairy tale; we've never had a choice!"
"I can't even choose not to do it, do you understand what that means? If I don't, New York will be goddamn screwed!"
"I'm the victim here!"
Chapter 267: The World Is Saved, But What About Me?
PS:. Gary Lester was born a loser.
He bought drugs from street thugs, learned magic from all sorts of obscure spellbooks, became friends with Constantine, and even went to Newcastle with him.
The last three things he did in his life were, first, letting Nergal go, and second, finding Constantine and begging him to fix the mess he'd made. As for the third thing, that would have to wait until tomorrow.
It's funny, really. He drifted through his entire life, yet his death might turn out to be more meaningful than his whole life combined.
Whether that's true or not, at least that's how Constantine convinced himself deep down.
"Oh, come on, listen up. Gaz was an idiot, he got what was coming to him," Constantine ranted furiously from his bed, shouting at the four "people" by the window. "Of course, you can all just die and then look down on what I've done. Whatever guilt there is, it'll all be on me, the scum, the one who has to deal with them!"
Guilt is proof of survival—he'd used this line to comfort himself countless times, repeating it over and over, hypnotizing himself into a good night's sleep.
"Alright, I'm done," he said coldly to the four spirits in the room. "Now, you can all get out. I want to sleep. And remember to close the door on your way out."
Moments later, the room plunged into darkness, with faint specks of light filtering in from the streetlights outside, offering a thin glow. Up here, at the top of the building, the sounds of traffic and people barely reached him, making the room even quieter.
Constantine lay curled up in bed, unable to sleep.
A moment later, he turned the light back on, scanning the empty room—there was nothing around, just him.
A suffocating sense of loneliness washed over him. One second, he was yelling at Emma and the others to leave, but the next, he found himself missing them, missing Emma's soft embrace.
He turned off the light, drew the curtains, and lay flat on the bed. This time, the suffocating darkness completely enveloped him.
"Good night, John."
Half-asleep, a gentle female voice whispered in Constantine's ear, completely shattering his fragile nerves.
Constantine buried his head in the pillow, stifling his tears and soft sobs. A moment later, he tasted the bitter saltiness of tears on his lips.
Cody snapped off the bug and entered the Midnight Building.
He couldn't listen anymore.
After parting ways with Constantine, he'd had some doubts, so he followed him to see what he was up to.
Turns out, the guy really did take a cab to the casino.
After Zatanna's ex-boyfriend (Constantine) darted into the casino, Cody didn't follow. He wasn't a gambler and didn't have any particular liking for it. Gambling wasn't a method of labor recognized by his system, so it wouldn't help him accumulate asset points.
So, he went back to the church first to make sure no one would foolishly remove the talismans. Thankfully, the priest had reacted quickly, and by the time Cody returned, he saw that the priest had already found some church staff to cordon off the area.
Cody simply got the priest's number and relayed that information, along with the news about the church, to Midnight. With those important tasks done, he had nothing else to do, so he returned directly to the Midnight Building.
It wasn't until he got back to his room that he realized Constantine hadn't returned and hadn't told him about the next day's plan. This was very unusual. It was late at night—was the guy planning to pull an all-nighter at the casino?
While, generally speaking, comics don't usually feature bizarre scenarios like "the world ending because the hero gambled all night and missed the next day's salvation plan," if the hero is Constantine, the possibility is small, but definitely not zero.
So, he unlocked Constantine's room, confirmed no one was there, casually placed a bug under the bed, and then headed out to the Midnight Casino.
Oddly, he walked through the casino two full times but couldn't find any sign of Constantine, nor did he hear his voice. All signs indicated the guy wasn't at the casino.
So he found a waiter, slipped him a small tip, and asked if he'd seen a blond British guy in a trench coat. That's when he learned Constantine had been there looking for Midnight but hadn't found him.
What was he planning tonight?
Cody was full of doubts. He hadn't dared to bug Constantine directly at first, partly because the guy was a mage, and partly because he was an old con artist who might notice what he'd done. But now, he was starting to regret it. This radio silence looked an awful lot like he was planning something big.
It wasn't until he was walking down the street that he heard Constantine's voice through the bug.
"Jesus, what did I do to deserve this?"
Listening to Constantine's hysterical voice, Cody raised an eyebrow. His emotions seemed a bit unstable.
"Damn it, what do you want?! Why are you filling my damn room with dead people?"
Oh, now this was getting juicy.
Cody immediately rushed back to the Midnight Building, ears perked, meticulously catching every word. He just knew that a character like Constantine was never short on drama, and he was ready for some serious gossip.
But by the time he reached the Midnight Building, he realized he couldn't stomach the gossip anymore.
"How can you look down on me?! What do you want me to say? That Evandee killed you, so I'm sad? I'm of course sad, do you know that? It almost killed me too, damn it!"
"Just like Lester, he's about to become a pawn too—but do you think I didn't want to find another way?!"
Cody's expression suddenly grew serious. He had never expected to overhear Constantine's past and his struggles.
Most importantly, he'd figured out what Constantine was planning to do to Lester. To orchestrate such a plan against his own friend—he was truly a scumbag, deserving of the title.
But then, what he said next was true: this was the only way to defeat Nergal. If no one was willing to do this dirty work, New York was doomed.
Someone always has to be the one to do the dirty deed, but not everyone is willing to be that person. And Constantine was perfectly suited for the role.
But people got one thing wrong: Constantine wasn't born bad. He knew what was right and what was wrong.
So, occasionally, in the lonely hours of the night, when he closed his eyes, he would hear his deepest self silently protesting against this world.
The world was saved, but what about him?
Where could the soul named "Constantine" find peace?
Chapter 268 The Hunt Begins ()
Just as Cody overheard Constantine's muffled sobs through the wiretap, the system panel popped up right on cue.
"Beep!"
"You've got a new gig, pay attention."
"The Tears of a Scoundrel" Quest Description:
"When it comes to Constantine, everyone basically says the same thing: he's shameless, amoral, and has no bottom line. A black magician who causes crises, a con artist full of lies – in this world, Constantine is the embodiment of all that. So when he gets his friends killed, everyone thinks, 'Of course he would; he's Constantine, a heartless scumbag.' Over time, even Constantine himself started to believe it."
"Note: But you're different; you know Constantine's story. He can't be truly good, yet he's not bad enough; he knows he can't go to heaven, but he's unwilling to go to hell either. He's a crooked con artist, and he's also a savior."
"You heard the demon hunter weeping late at night – but how could a heartless scoundrel shed tears?"
Status: Pending (0%)
Reward: Special Skill "Stowaway"
"Stowaway" Note: "If someone were to ask how many universes exist in this world, different people would give different answers: your world would say 'unknown,' the original Superboy would say 'infinite,' Superboy-Prime would say '52,' Doctor Manhattan would say 'the new 52,' and 'The Hand' would have yet another answer... And even more interesting is that, for you, some universes are in comics, and some are on screens – and they don't know each other."
Note 2: "No matter the answer to that question, one thing is certain: traveling between them is by no means easy, and some barriers between universes are simply insurmountable – but then again, a qualified worker always delivers on their mission."
Cody looked at the skill's effect. It could not only help him return to universes he'd visited before but also venture into new ones. However, to avoid detection by supreme beings and to ensure his own safety, he couldn't physically enter some universes.
"Am I going to turn into an old man?" he wondered, scratching his head as he stepped out of the elevator.
Thump, thump, thump.
"Constantine."
Thump, thump, thump.
"Constantine."
Thump, thump, thump.
"Constantine."
Constantine's door was suddenly knocked on. Though the volume wasn't loud, it was incredibly rhythmic and relentless. When the knocking began its third round, Constantine, having had enough, reached out and opened the door.
He found Cody standing there.
"What the hell, do you know it's three in the morning?!"
"I know, but you're not sleeping anyway," Cody shrugged. "Or rather, I'm guessing you won't be able to sleep much tonight, so why don't we discuss tomorrow's plan?"
Constantine froze for a moment, then impatiently tried to close the door again. "Take Lester, find Midnight, go to the rooftop, lure Namor over, Midnight takes him out – problem solved, we go home."
But Cody put his hand on the door, looking into Constantine's eyes. "That simple?"
"That simple," Constantine said. "Hey, you queer, get your hand off; I don't want to sleep with a man."
Cody's eye twitched. Constantine had the nerve to say that – he'd even slept with non-human entities, let alone men.
"First, I'm not queer," Cody corrected. "Second, since it's already three, we don't have much time to discuss. We need to get things done quickly."
"Are you deaf or something?" Constantine snapped. "There's nothing we can do now; everything has to wait until tomorrow."
"If you wait until tomorrow, your and Lester's fate won't change."
As Cody said this, he clearly saw Constantine's body stiffen for a moment.
"What gibberish are you spouting, you lunatic?" he mumbled, trying to close the door again. "Can't understand a word..."
"No," Cody shook his head. "I have a better plan than yours."
"A perfect ending where no one gets hurt, the best solution that doesn't require sacrificing a soul."
At these words, Constantine's eyes flickered almost imperceptibly.
"There's no such thing..." he said. "I stopped believing in that stuff the moment I popped out of the womb."
But his hand dropped, no longer stubbornly blocking the door.
Cody knew he was tempted, so he smiled and stepped into the room.
"You haven't even heard my plan yet, how do you know it won't work?"
Dawn
Namor had a rather dissatisfying night.
Generally, nighttime was when it feasted to its fullest, gorging itself and absorbing power. In a sense, it was its "happy hour."
New York, the economic, financial, commercial, trade, cultural, and media hub of the United States and even the world, is one of the world's three major financial centers, the largest city in the U.S., and perhaps the wealthiest city globally. Wall Street, Times Square, the Statue of Liberty, Central Park, and other famous landmarks are here, along with Columbia University, New York University, and 120 other higher education institutions, as well as 2,000 art and cultural organizations.
This city has almost everything desirable, and thus, it naturally doesn't lack intense desires: power, wealth, ambition; no matter what one wants, the greedy crowds are always endless.
Although Namor hadn't been here long, its growth rate in this place was astonishing. Every night, it flew over this glittering, bustling city, beginning its hunt in the darkness.
The air was always filled with dark desires, always with hungry voices, and it only needed to follow the sound.
When it descended, it injected the seeds of chaos into the burning belly of the city, drinking the nectar brewed from desire with its agile tongue.
It loved this scent the most—the scent of desire, the scent of flesh and blood. Ever since the thirst for food and water on the African land gave birth to it, pure desire had become the best delicacy it instinctively pursued, and New York happened to have many different flavors of desire.
Until last night, it hadn't eaten anything, and it had been struck by a sword, confined inside a church.
But fortunately, it felt no anger, only an instinctive pursuit of deliciousness. So, the moment the church door was broken open, it completely ignored the ordinary people on the street or in the residences and flew straight to the top of a skyscraper.
There, it sensed a familiar scent it had sniffed out before, which now seemed even more alluring, as if it had been prepared by some special ritual.
And so, Namor, having been hungry all night, decided to begin its hunt there.
Chapter 269 The Hunger Demon Arrives
At dawn, as the red sun began its ascent, a familiar scent drew me, and I spiraled upwards into the sky. We hummed a low, pre-meal hymn, and below, in the rooftop garden, something unseen resonated with our song.
The ingredients for this ritual seem to be a special kind of blood, smelling somewhat like birds, but I don't mind. It only makes the main course more delicious.
I'm not picky. My hunger is like this city's hunger, an endless, greedy desire that devours the flesh and blood of everyone, yet it becomes my nourishment, making me strong and satisfied. We grow together, a symbiotic relationship, so sacred, so terrible, so perfect.
Dark, swirling clouds rose with the first ray of sunlight. We will bring unmasked desire to this insatiable world, bring true joy, and finally, bring peace and happiness.
I flew toward the rooftop garden, where the most intense aroma yet beckoned me, inviting me to partake in this exquisite delicacy.
And so, I arrived.
"No, don't! Where are you taking me…?"
In the early hours, Lester, looking utterly gaunt, was dragged onto the rooftop by two zombies. Midnight had left him in the "stockyard" all day without a single piece of ice, which had left him in a terrible state – listless, delirious, weak all over, covered in cold sweat. He looked three parts human, seven parts ghost, utterly powerless against the zombies' grip.
When he was forced onto a chair in the rooftop garden, Midnight was already waiting. He checked his watch – only ten minutes left until sunrise. The church's seal would be broken, and he hoped Constantine was ready.
"What exactly are you doing?"
"Dealing with the demon, Lester," Midnight said. "Did you forget what I told you yesterday? You're the bait."
"Already? Can't we wait a bit longer? I'm a little scared…"
Midnight ignored him.
"Ugh, ahhh…"
A low grumble echoed in the room. Constantine's shoulder was being vigorously shaken.
But he didn't wake up.
Click.
The room's main light switch was flipped, and blinding white light instantly filled the space. Constantine, who wanted to keep sleeping, finally couldn't stay in bed.
"Damn it… who the hell turned on the light… what time is it?"
Constantine, barely opening his eyes, looked bewildered. His unfocused gaze swept across the room, then landed on the hulking zombie standing by his bed – to be honest, it was pretty terrifying.
"Seriously… can't you find a more normal way to wake someone up?"
Despite his complaints, he sprang out of bed and quickly got dressed. He splashed cold water on his face, grabbed his jacket, and walked into the elevator with Joey, the zombie. The whole perfunctory yet ritualistic process took only seven minutes, barely delaying anything.
But that was mainly because he wasn't tired.
The herbal tea Cody gave him was a little too effective, Constantine thought. It made it hard for me to even pretend to be asleep – good thing I'm an old pro.
He followed the zombie out of the elevator to the rooftop. Facing Papa Midnight and Lester, he took a deep breath, hoping his acting today would be good enough to fool that old hand, Midnight.
After all, if the truth of today were to get out, he and Cody would likely become targets for that voodoo sorcerer, who had no shortage of resources or humanity.
"Morning, Constantine." Midnight was still wearing his white suit and primitive grass skirt. "According to the building's exit surveillance, your other friend seems to have left you yesterday."
"I found an excuse to send him away; that guy's too soft-hearted, he'd mess up the plan – Morning, Midnight," Constantine said, lighting a cigarette. In the pitch-black sky, he greeted Midnight. "The weather's really nice today for a knight."
Midnight gave him a puzzled look at the still-dark sky. Although the sun was about to rise, at this moment, let alone the weather, even the clouds in the sky were unclear. He asked, somewhat confused, "What knight?"
"Haha, a race knight, you jerk."
"…"
Midnight, being a Black man himself, looked even darker, though thankfully the sky wasn't bright either, so no one could tell. He retorted, "Save your energy; you'll need it for your friend later."
Constantine said nothing more.
"Tattoo needles, ink, straitjacket, white flour, chair…" Midnight ignored him, turning to check the props needed for the ritual. "Everything's here."
"Where'd this electric chair come from?"
"A private auction – stuff from the state prison. Three hundred lives grilled to a crisp on it."
"Holy cow, good stuff, way too good."
"Mm-hmm," Midnight said noncommittally. "It's powerful magic, and the irony in it might give you some amusement."
"What, the state prison electrocutes prisoners?" Constantine took a puff of his cigarette. "I'm not sure that joke is still relevant – anyway, let me have a few words with Lester, then we'll get started."
"Want to wear sunglasses? To avoid giving anything away?"
"No need." Constantine waved his hand and walked over to Lester, who was some distance away. "Morning, Gates – how are you doing?"
"I… I'm really not well, Constantine," Lester said weakly, held up by two big Black men. "I feel like I can't hold on."
"You've said that before – but you've made it this far, mate. Don't worry, it's just a little tattooing."
"Can't we stop? I really am…"
"No, friend. Just pretend you're at the dentist, and think of me as your mom."
Constantine patted Lester's shoulder reassuringly, watching him being tied to the electric chair by the two burly men. He then casually picked up a syringe. "See this? Good stuff, direct from Thailand, guaranteed to make you fly – be a brave, good boy, and after this, I'll treat you well."
"Can't you give it to me now?"
"Later, kid."
Midnight listened to their conversation, a satisfied smile on his face. Constantine's tongue was like the serpent in Eden, able to make the dead sound alive. The plan was proceeding smoothly under his cover.
So, he picked up a knife and a white chicken and began the ritual.
Thump! Thump-thump!
Two zombie laborers stood on either side, beginning to beat their hand drums. A primitive, wild rhythm echoed on the rooftop.
"Gurgle…"
A small knife sliced the rooster's neck. The white-feathered chicken, held upside down, began to gush blood, which was fully collected in the golden bowl below.
Feathers stirred, incantations murmured. As Midnight used the chicken blood to draw a magic circle around the electric chair, the time came.
The church's spell was lifted, the door instantly shattered, and Namor flew freely into the dark night sky, immediately drawn by the ritual, heading toward Midnight's building.
The Hunger Demon had arrived.
Chapter 270: Stealing the Heavens and Swapping Suns
A strange buzzing hum filled the skies over New York City.
It was the cusp of dawn, those few minutes before the city truly awoke, when the first light hadn't yet appeared, and night was almost done.
On the rooftop of the Midnight Building, Constantine, Papa Midnight, and Lester stared blankly into the dark night. They weren't looking at the city lights below, but at something far vaster and more complete up in the sky.
Tens of millions, perhaps even hundreds of millions, of humming, invisible entities swirled freely in the night sky. Occasionally, a regular passerby on the street would hear a strange noise, look up, but only see the dark expanse above.
But from the perspective of the three on the rooftop, a massive black cloud—a cloud made of tiny, bloodlusting, flying spirits—was boiling, churning, and converging. They gradually synchronized in the night sky, billions of whispers slowly beginning to resonate, then aligning perfectly, finally transforming into a higher-level, higher-frequency chant that human ears couldn't quite grasp. It echoed freely above the city like a grand, resonating bell.
The three couldn't hear this sound, but they felt something strange and profound reaching their ears from the void, making them instantly understand Nergal. It yearned for flesh and desires, and it was transmitting this greedy craving to the city.
All three vaguely sensed that something strange and enormous had taken shape in the dark night.
An invisible behemoth moved between the towering skyscrapers. A terrifying sense of oppression gradually spread across the entire city. The giant beast in the darkness was unseen and unheard, yet the trio could distinctly feel its presence.
The greatest sound is silence; the greatest form is formless.
Lester looked at the calm night sky and couldn't help but let out a desperate groan.
"Oh God... that's it, that must be it..."
Constantine and Papa Midnight were already breaking out in cold sweats. They were both incredibly powerful, seasoned mages, able to vaguely sense that ethereal form in the void through their spiritual awareness.
Giant, invisible insect wings obscured the entire sky, slender insect limbs stretched across several city blocks, and a greedy, long tongue licked at half of New York's desires. Unlike its compressed state in the church, its true form had expanded to an astonishing degree.
Gulp.
Constantine couldn't help but swallow. "Mate, it's bloody massive... I feel like I've only seen something this big in Godzilla movies."
"Are you sure Godzilla's that big?" Papa Midnight couldn't help but adjust his top hat. "We absolutely have to deal with this demon tonight, otherwise, New York City will be a ghost town in less than a month."
"You've got a lot of faith in New York."
As they spoke, the first ray of morning sun peeked over the horizon.
"Buzz~"
The form moved closer to the building. As the distance shortened, the scent of Lester, at the center of the blood magic circle, became even more distinct. This made Nergal restless, drooling, and joyous.
So, it stretched its body, ready to indulge in this lavish feast.
When the overwhelming swarm of insects materialized in the morning light, all three of their expressions tightened.
"Why didn't you keep your friend around?" Midnight resisted the urge to tremble, speaking to Constantine. "I really want to meet this expert who could seriously wound Nergal and seal it away for a whole night."
"Talking won't do us any good now," Constantine replied. "The arrow's already on the string."
And Lester, having personally witnessed the horror of possession once before, screamed and wailed even louder.
"No, no! Let me go, let me go, please!"
However, neither of them paid attention to his cries, their eyes fixed on the insect tide.
"John, it's too strong, you can't hold it! The magic bottle won't hold this thing! Mate, where's the magic bottle?"
Lester's screaming voice suddenly quieted. "John, you didn't bring the bottle. How are you going to catch it?"
Constantine didn't answer.
"No, no, no, you can't—please don't do this..."
Constantine still didn't respond, only silently made the sacrificial gesture with Papa Midnight.
The black insect tide finally flew before them. By now, the morning light from the horizon was completely obscured by it, a massive shadow engulfing the entire rooftop. The dense swarm of insects twisted and writhed to form a colossal fly, closing in on Lester's face, its buzzing almost deafening.
"No!" The suddenly enlightened Lester finally let out his last desperate curse: "Constantine! You bast—ard—!!!"
The black blizzard swallowed the three.
The buzzing insects pelted their bodies like snowflakes. If it had chosen to attack Constantine or Midnight immediately, all three would have surely died.
Constantine was expressionless, Lester's face was pale and despairing, and Midnight grinned, a smile devoid of warmth.
The moment Nergal touched Lester's skin, it was as if a shark had smelled blood. Like the many people it had corrupted, it was utterly unable to control its greed, allowing it to grow wild.
Then, it swarmed and burrowed into Lester's body. Constantine met his gaze for just a moment through the swarm, and then he could no longer hear any sound from him.
The hungry spirit had finally entered him completely.
"Gotta be quick," Constantine thought, his hand moving like lightning, engraving the devil-binding tattoo pattern into Lester's skin.
When Lester awoke, he was once again clad in a prisoner's straitjacket.
His fists clenched violently, a buzzing hum emanated from his mouth, and his eyes were fixed on Constantine and Midnight, as if he would leap up and tear at their flesh the next second. But after struggling for a few minutes, he went limp and slumped back into the chair.
"John, you're utterly despicable..." Human words came from his mouth, which made the two men relax.
"I'm glad you're not controlled by Nergal," Constantine said, patting his shoulder. "We should go."
"You should have just killed me instead of letting me suffer like this..."
"I can't, mate—and I shouldn't. If I killed you, Nergal would get out."
Constantine waved at Midnight. "You don't need to see us off. We have to leave today."
"Leave?" Midnight frowned. "I have the menagerie, you don't, Constantine. We need to make sure Nergal is completely finished."
"I know," Constantine replied. "That's why I have to take him to Sudan—remember? The old priest is there. Only he can ensure this hungry spirit never returns."
"...Don't get soft, Constantine." After a moment of hesitation, Midnight nodded. "We've done so much. One slip-up, and it's all for nothing."
"You can rest assured."
Lester changed his clothes, and the two went downstairs. A taxi was already waiting at the street corner.
A gaunt figure opened the car door and timidly asked the two, "Jo-John, how are things?"
Constantine didn't answer; his mind was in turmoil.
"It's over," Cody's voice suddenly came from Lester's mouth.
"You owe me your life, Gary."
(End of this chapter)
