Constantine felt very cold.
It was very cold. Not only was his skin telling him that he was about to be frozen, but it was also the coldness that came from his soul. It was a coldness that froze his emotions and soul. It was more like some kind of special infection. He could not help but wrap his windbreaker around himself. However, walking in a barren desert, such a method of insulation was obviously not enough.
As for why he appeared in the Nevada Desert thousands of miles away from New York, that was obviously another story.
"Where … are you taking me?!"
He could not help but shout at the sky, "You f * cking tell me! Don't f * cking torture me! "
"Go forward!"
The dark voice surged in his heart, conveying only one message. However, he was sure that the person he was talking to was a real big shot. It was precisely because of his great power that he could only communicate in such a weak and inaudible way. Otherwise, it would be easy for the Supreme Sorcerer who was monitoring the world to find out something was amiss.
After crossing the vast ocean of space overnight, Constantine looked like an old dog whose spine had been completely broken. He no longer had the optimism and playfulness he had before. It was as if he had been thrown into sewage for three days and three nights, completely draining his last bit of energy.
He was like the most tired traveler, struggling to move forward in the desert at night. He did not know his destination, nor did he know how long it would take. It was very likely that he would die in the desert in the next moment, but he had to move forward.
Everyone had a weakness in life, and even the most powerful Supreme Sorcerer was no exception. These weaknesses should be carefully protected. Otherwise, once the weakness was discovered, the outcome would be disastrous. Constantine was an extreme example of this.
He had personally dug a bottomless abyss for himself. Now, he was about to be completely swallowed by the abyss that he had dug. No one was willing to be a lackey, because regardless of whether the master won or lost, the lackey would not have a good ending. However, the problem was that sometimes, one had no choice but to be a lackey …
For those who had pride in their hearts, this was the most painful thing.
On the cold, dark sand dunes of the desert, the Spirit Detective looked left and right. He was sure that he was completely lost now. In this desert environment without any signs, it was inevitable that he would wander aimlessly like this. However, just as he was about to lift his foot and move forward again, a person suddenly appeared in his vision.
"That is …"
He looked at the guy. He was very far away, about a few hundred meters away. He could only see a rough outline in the darkness, but he was sure that it was a human. He staggered all the way towards Constantine, but his steps were unusually stiff. He didn't look like a normal person at all, but more like … a zombie.
Bang!
After walking for a dozen meters, he seemed to have exhausted all his strength. He fell face first into the sand dunes, sending up a cloud of yellow sand. Constantine, who was watching from the side, was shocked.
He walked over and took out the golden knuckles with holy runes from his pocket. He clenched the holy water in his other hand. It took him almost ten minutes to walk over to the fallen man. He looked at the man at his feet.
"Bad hair, dirty clothes, bare feet, and this smell …"
Constantine squatted down and frowned as he looked at the man who was no longer breathing. He seemed to have lost his soul. "He looks like a South American …"
He looked at the pair of feet that had been completely ground away. It was an absolutely cruel scene, so cruel that it made one's scalp tingle. He forced himself not to look at the pair of feet. When he looked at the guy's hands, he saw a flash in the darkness.
It was like a ray of light refracted by a piece of metal. After seeing the thing that the man was holding tightly in his hand, Constantine reached out and took the cold metal from the man's hand. But the moment the metal left the body, the corpse seemed to have been weathered. Its flesh and blood instantly turned into black quicksand and dissipated on the spot. The bones shattered, leaving only small pieces of bone behind.
It looked like the body had been abandoned in the desert for hundreds of years.
This scene made Constantine's expression change drastically. He once again looked at the metal fragment in his hand. It was a piece of metal without any special features, and even looked rough. However, he could tell that it was the remains of a weapon. He carefully turned the piece of metal around and saw the rune engraved at the bottom of the metal fragment.
It was as if he had been stung by a poisonous scorpion. He threw the thing on the ground as if it was a hot potato. He couldn't help but take a step back. He staggered and fell. His feet kept rubbing against the sand to make his body move back, trying to distance himself from the metal fragment. It was obvious that the thing had frightened him.
"Are you afraid?"
The ball of darkness appeared in front of him in the form of light and shadow. It was like a dark vortex floating under the sky. Through the vortex, Constantine seemed to see a pair of dark eyes looking directly at him.
"Why should I be afraid? Haven't you scum been chasing after such a powerful existence? Why should you be afraid? Go … take it! Obtain your power, and then do something big! "
"No! I refuse! "
Constantine looked at the dagger-like metal fragment that was thrown in the desert with lingering fear. It was no different from the remains of an ordinary weapon. He shouted loudly.
"I refuse! That's not something I can possess … You're trying to murder me! You're trying to murder my soul! "
"Hehehe."
The voice turned cold. "If not for this … Do you think your soul is still useful? It's just firewood. I sent it out from hell and walked it from the Giant Sinkhole to here. The souls of ordinary people can't withstand the absorption from it at all. I'm already tired of the frequent changes in the owner … Fortunately, I found you.
"Desperate, desperate, and sorrowful. The familiar soul of pain still tastes so good."
"You're dead for sure."
The voice was bone-chilling. "It can at least let you live a little longer. Don't reject this' gift. 'Think about Cheryl. Poor idiot. Do you really think you have a choice?"
Constantine's rebuttal was stuck in his throat. As an exorcist, in the past, he was actually better at using flexible words and traps to deal with these troubles. But this time, he suddenly realized that the power of words was so weak.
After walking into a desperate situation, he suddenly realized that those things that he once regarded as ominous, those powers that he only relied on to make money, were the ones that were truly worth relying on. At the very least, if he was as strong as Saber, this bastard in front of him could forget about forcing him to do something that was tantamount to suicide.
But … It was too late for regrets.
Click.
Constantine took out a lighter, flicked it twice, and lit up the cigarette. He sat on the cold sand dune and looked at the night sky above him. The sky had never been so lonely. He reached out and touched his pocket. There was nothing there. He really had nothing.
"Okay … Okay, if that's the case …"
He reached out and picked up the dagger-like metal strip. When he touched it, the cold metal seemed to have smelled something delicious. It began to heat up. Finally, the scorching power was reflected in Constantine's palm. It was as if he was holding a piece of coal. Most importantly, he couldn't throw it away.
It was as if it was stuck to his hand. There was no way to throw it away.
"Ahhh!"
He knelt on the ground in pain. His left hand held his right arm. All the muscles in his body were trembling as if he was enduring some kind of terrible torture. A moment later, his flesh was burnt, but it recovered quickly. It was just like Saber's self-healing. However, there was a complicated mark on his recovered skin.
It was an orange pentagram. It was an inverted pentagram decorated with complicated patterns. A pair of black wings, a burning longsword, and stars dotted in the center of the mark.
"As expected!"
Constantine's face was covered in cold sweat. That was the appearance after suffering. He raised his head and looked at the empty sky.
"It really is you!!!"
While the pitiful Zak Kang was suffering in the Nevada desert, Angela walked into the morgue of the police station in Manhattan with a cold expression on her face and Father Hannacy, who had just recovered from a serious illness. The police officer who was guarding the entrance of the morgue looked up and saw Angela.
"Hi, Detective Dawson. You're early today!"
Angela looked at him. There was no trace of a smile in her eyes. It was as if she had turned into another person overnight. She was dressed casually as usual. She wore a black windbreaker, skinny jeans, a baseball cap, and a small backpack. She looked younger, but her overall aura was gloomy.
To be precise, she was much gloomier than the old Detective Dawson.
"No, Ferguson. I'm resigning."
Angela said calmly. "This job doesn't suit me … I'm here to see my sister today. This is the priest I found. He will preside over my sister's burial ceremony."
The police officer named Ferguson was shocked. Angela was publicly recognized as the star of tomorrow who had the highest chance of becoming the youngest police officer this year. She actually chose to resign at this critical moment?
He was stunned for a few seconds. He quickly reacted and said with a heavy expression, "I'm sorry for your sister.
"I'm very sorry about what happened to your sister. Angela, take care of yourself."
"There's nothing to apologize for."
Angela took out her sunglasses from her pocket and put them on. She said concisely, "It's not your fault, Ferguson. Open the door. I don't have much time."
The police officer turned around and took out a bunch of keys. He pointed at the empty morgue.
"Room 13. Your sister is there."
Angela nodded. She looked at Ferguson again. To be precise, she looked at the two ferocious-looking Earthbound Spirits standing behind Ferguson. They were sucking the life out of the police officer. They glared at Angela fiercely. Just like Saber said, when she could see them, they could also see her.
Angela was silent for a moment. Then she said softly,
"Change your job, Ferguson. Also, good luck."
A few minutes later, Angela reached out and pulled open her sister's body bag. In such a cold morgue, the body would not change. The spot where Isabella had fallen from the roof happened to be a swimming pool. The impact had killed her instantly, but her body was not tortured too badly.
The girl in front of her looked like she had fallen asleep. Her face was pale, and her lips were especially pale. Angela's eyes were filled with pain. When she reached out her hand to touch her sister, Father Hannacy, who had been standing behind her, suddenly said, "Don't worry, I'm sorry, but I'm sorry.
"Don't touch her!"
"Hmm?"
"Don't touch her! Angela … "
Father Hannasi took three pairs of gloves from the side and put them on. He carefully turned Isabella's arm over and pulled down the ID tag on her arm, revealing what looked like a tattoo, but at the same time, it also looked like the symbol of a cult.
Father Hannacy looked like he was burned. He took two steps back and made a cross in front of his chest.
"Lord … Oh my god … You're right, Angela. Your sister didn't commit suicide. This symbol, this symbol … Mammon Son of Darkness, a child who committed a sin worse than his father! Oh my god! This is crazy! "
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