2 hours later
A sharp snap.
POP.
The air tore apart.
And Alastor appeared in front of a familiar storefront.
The smile still in place.
But his gaze… more attentive than usual.
Without a word, he entered.
The interior of Rosie's shop was true to her:
refined, old, almost timeless.
A scent of tea and iron lingered in the air.
Alastor briefly observed his reflection in a mirror.
Then, in one fluid motion, his appearance changed.
His usual red suit transformed.
A long, deep black coat, with edges embroidered with almost living patterns
A perfectly fitted ivory shirt
A thin tie, dark red bordering on black
Impeccable gloves
And his cane, slightly different… more understated, but radiating a much heavier aura
His smile widened.
— A minimum of presentation… is required.
But the moment he finished—
He stopped.
Abruptly.
Seated across from her, a man was calmly talking.
He looked… human.
But only on the surface.
His skin was a dark red, almost burning under the light.
Two thin horns rose from his forehead, slightly curved backward.
His eyes, glowing yellow, seemed to shine even without light.
His smile was calm… too calm.
He wore a perfectly tailored black suit, with almost flawless elegance.
Alastor immediately felt something.
A pressure.
Invisible.
Incredibly heavy. He had never felt such magical pressure before. The most disturbing part was that Alastor could tell the man was holding back.
He slightly tilted his head.
— My greetings.
The man slowly turned his eyes toward him.
And in that instant—
Alastor clearly felt the difference.
This was not just a powerful demon.
This was… something else.
Someone whose power far exceeded that of the Overlords. Perhaps even superior to Adam (obviously if the latter does not use perfect copy).
For a second—
Alastor remained perfectly still.
Then he regained his usual composure.
The man stared at him for a few moments.
Without hostility.
Without any particular emotion.
Just… as if he were evaluating him.
Then he looked away.
As if Alastor was not a threat.
He stood up calmly.
— Rosie.
His voice was steady.
— Always a pleasure.
Rosie smiled softly.
— The pleasure is mine.
The man walked past Alastor.
Without touching him.
But as he got closer—
Alastor felt that magical pressure again.
Stronger.
Clearer.
Instinctively, he understood one thing:
If there was a fight… he would not win.
The door closed gently behind the stranger.
Silence fell immediately.
A comfortable silence.
Almost too comfortable.
Alastor remained still for a few seconds.
Then his smile stretched again.
— …Charming encounter.
Sitting across from him, Rosie delicately brought her cup to her lips.
— Oh?
She set the cup down gracefully.
— I see that even you can recognize someone important.
Alastor slowly approached.
His cane softly echoed against the floor.
— Let's just say… his aura was hard to ignore.
Rosie gave an amused smile.
— That's a polite way of saying you felt the difference.
Alastor did not answer immediately.
He sat across from her, crossing his legs with ease.
— Perhaps.
A short silence settled in.
Calm.
Almost friendly.
Then, without warning, Alastor slightly tilted his head.
His smile did not move.
But his voice… became more precise.
— Tell me, Rosie…
He gently tapped his cane against the floor.
— Would you happen to be… the source of a certain rumor about me?
Rosie blinked.
Then made an exaggerated pout.
— Oh?
She placed a hand on her cheek, feigning offense.
— So instead of thanking me…
She looked at him.
— For healing your wound…
Her gaze dropped to Alastor's cane.
— And fixing your cane…
She crossed her arms.
— You're complaining?
Silence.
Alastor did not move.
His smile remained perfectly in place.
But his eyes… slightly froze.
Rosie sighed softly.
Then shrugged.
— Yes.
She looked him straight in the eyes.
— I'm the one who told Paimon about you.
Alastor slightly tilted his head.
— I see.
His voice remained calm.
But colder.
— You could have at least informed me.
Rosie let out a small laugh.
Not mocking.
Not really.
But… not sincere either.
— Oh come on, Alastor.
She leaned slightly forward.
— Since when do I need to warn you?
A silence.
Then she continued, more softly:
— All you have to do…
She placed a finger on the table.
— Is follow the instructions he gives you.
Alastor did not answer.
The regular tapping of his cane on the floor resumed.
Once.
Twice.
Then it stopped.
He slightly raised his head.
His smile… still there.
But thinner.
A long moment followed where the two overlords stared at each other. In the end, Alastor sighed and calmed down, returning to his usual smile.
Then Alastor slowly stood up.
Adjusted his sleeve.
— Very well.
He slightly turned his head toward her.
— Since you insist.
He took his cane.
— I will go see this dear Paimon.
He turned around and left, muttering something about Rosie.
Rosie watched him as he was about to push the front door.
Then she softly murmured:
— Be careful, Alastor.
He stopped at the door.
Without turning around.
— I'm always careful.
A wider smile.
— That's why I'm still here.
Then he left.
Silence returned.
Rosie picked up her cup again.
And whispered to herself:
— For now.
3 hours earlier in another place
A portal opened with a faint crackling sound.
And two figures stepped out.
Husk adjusted his coat, grumbling slightly.
— I don't like it when he sends us without explanations.
Next to him, Niffty was observing the place with curiosity, obviously to spot any trace of dirt.
— It looks important though, she said as she rushed toward a slightly dusty shelf.
In front of them…
A massive aristocratic-style lounge.
And at the center—
A figure.
Zestial slowly turned his head toward them.
— Ah…
His slow, refined voice slid through the room.
— You took longer than expected, he turned his gaze toward Husk
— You know I am not very patient
Husk
— Yeah, sorry. I teleported to your old place thinking you still lived there. Carmilla gave me your new address. Honestly, Alastor could've told me.
Zestial slowly approached.
A slight smile stretched across his face.
— Oh, forget it, it's not that serious, Husk. It's been a long time. How is it going with Alastor and your new job?
Husk made a face.
— As for Alastor, you know how annoying he is with that stupid hotel. Please don't get me started.
Zestial laughed at his old friend's reaction.
Zestial observed him with some interest.
— It is… regrettable that you lost your title. You know my offer to make a pact with Alastor so you can recover your soul is still available despite all these years.
Husk sighed.
— Zestial, like 10 years ago, I'm going to tell you the same thing again: thanks, but you don't need to do that for me, old man. And besides, Carmilla would kill me if she found out. Even if in this pact you don't sell your soul, Carmilla has a certain distrust toward Alastor.
Zestial seemed disappointed.
— Very well, I still respect your choice.
His gaze shifted to Niffty.
— And you…
He slightly tilted his head.
— I've seen you before.
Niffty smiled.
— Me too, I've seen you before, gothic daddy! That's normal! Since I hang around Alastor a lot!
Zestial slowly nodded.
— Indeed.
— A presence… difficult to ignore.
A brief silence settled.
Then Husk crossed his arms.
— Alright.
— We're here because of Alastor…
— but he didn't tell us anything.
Zestial gave a slight smile.
— Of course he didn't tell you anything.
He raised a hand slightly.
— But I… know. So let's not waste any more time. I'll explain everything as we go.
Before Husk could respond—
CRACK.
Space folded around them.
They reappeared in front of an immense building.
Colossal.
Black walls, red gold details, and windows lit by an infernal glow.
Husk whistled slightly.
— Damn…
— This isn't a small event.
Zestial calmly replied:
— We are, after all… at a noble's place.
He turned to them.
With a simple gesture—
Their clothes changed.
Husk found himself in a dark, elegant but discreet suit
Niffty in a refined, almost ceremonial outfit
And each of them now wore a mask
Zestial calmly stated:
— Know that we will have to participate in an auction. Alastor gave you something, didn't he?
Husk pulled out a sheet of paper listing objects. At first, Husk didn't really know where they were supposed to find these items, but it seems they are going to participate in an auction.
Husk thought:
"Why didn't that bastard come himself, and more importantly… how are we supposed to pay?"
It seems Zestial, having seen his expression, finally spoke.
— If you have any questions regarding the purchase of the objects, even if it's going to make a big hole in my wallet, I will pay myself for what Alastor told you to acquire, since I owe him a favor, I might as well repay it like this.
After showing their access cards to imposing guards—
They were guided.
Then…
They crossed a tear in the air.
And arrived somewhere else.
A massive room.
Far too large to fit inside a normal building.
Hundreds of figures.
All masked.
All elegant.
Husk looked around.
— Ok…
— The guy organizing this isn't stupid.
At that moment, they were in a pocket dimension. It is literally the perfect place to discourage any troublemaker given the advantages the organizer has here, if of course he is the one who created it.
— If things go bad… he controls everything.
Zestial nodded.
— Exactly.
They took their seats.
The murmur of the crowd echoed like a constant buzz.
Then—
A small imp in a suit stepped forward.
— Ladies… and gentlemen…
His voice trembled slightly.
— Please welcome… our host for tonight…
A heavy sound echoed.
A figure appeared on the stage.
Tall.
Imposing.
Calm.
His skin was dark, leaning toward a deep green almost black.
Two long elegant horns rose from his skull.
His eyes glowed with a cold, calculating light.
He wore a richly decorated long coat covered in ancient symbols.
In his hand, a thin scepter, almost alive.
When he stepped onto the stage—
The entire room fell silent instantly.
Even Husk straightened slightly.
— …Ok.
— He's not just anyone.
Zestial whispered:
— Obviously.
The figure slowly raised his hand.
— Welcome.
His voice was deep.
Controlled.
— I am Barbatos.
A respectful silence spread through the crowd.
Then he gave a slight smile.
— And I declare…
A pause.
— That the auction…
His eyes scanned the room.
— Begins.
[TIME BEFORE THE NEXT OCCURRENCE: UNKNOW ANOMALY]
On Constantine's side
Sitting casually on a chair, an unlit cigarette between his fingers,
John Constantine was absentmindedly flipping through an old text.
Across from him, his niece was watching him seriously.
— Tell me…
She gently placed a finger on the page.
— Can you explain this to me?
She read aloud:
— Matthew 5:39…
— "But I tell you not to resist an evil person. If anyone slaps you on the right cheek, turn to them the other also."
Constantine looked up.
Then—
He burst out laughing.
— Ah, that one…
He shook his head.
— That verse has confused a lot of people.
His niece frowned.
— What do you mean?
He leaned back in his chair.
— A lot of Christians think that this verse means you have to be nice, nice all the time at every moment, and no matter what. Kindness is good, but if you are nice all the time at every moment, it can lead to delicate situations. So yes, kindness… but to what extent? Let's look at the verse.
He tapped the book.
— Look carefully. What matters here is that Jesus starts by saying "if someone hits you on the right cheek." That changes everything, because at that time most Jews were right-handed, and most people are right-handed in general. So to be struck on the right cheek by a right-handed person, there is only one possibility: they hit you with the back of their hand.
He made an exaggerated grimace.
— And trust me… it hurts.
His niece gave a small smile.
Constantine continued, more serious:
— In the culture of the time, being struck with the back of the hand was a sign of a serious insult and a lower social status than the one hitting you. Faced with this serious insult, Jesus tells you to turn the other cheek, thus forcing your opponent, if he wants to insult you again, to strike you with the palm of his hand.
He shrugged.
— Well… it still hurts.
He gave a slight smile.
— But now you've forced your opponent to treat you as an equal, and that's not nothing. Kindness, yes. Non-violence, yes. But not at the cost of your dignity. That's the subtle point of this verse. There's another verse that follows the same logic:
Matthew 5:41…
"If anyone forces you to go one mile, go with them two miles."
He crossed his arms.
— Again, this verse is more subtle. At the time of Jesus in the Roman Empire, there was a law, the Lex Angeria, that allowed a soldier to requisition you to carry his gear for one mile, but beyond that mile, he would be accountable before the law. So if you carry his gear for two miles, he becomes accountable to you before the law.
He shrugged.
— And honestly… doing that to a Roman soldier at that time?
He chuckled.
— You've got to have guts.
He continued:
— But in this case, he is now in your power. That's Christian kindness: the art of using non-violence and kindness to turn the situation to your advantage.
He straightened up.
— Without abusing it, of course. We're not monsters. But without being stupid either.
He closed the book.
— The Bible is more dangerous than people think.
— And don't forget, love will win.