"Don't cry, stand up and cast your spell."
Su Ming floated over, patted Constantine on the shoulder, who was streaming with tears. The mage was squatting beside the aerial roots of a shrub, much like a farmer squatting on the edge of a field.
A crustacean, somewhat resembling both a crab and a lobster, crawled across the shallow water in front of him, only to be startled by several large drops of snot falling onto its shell, causing the little creature to burrow into the mud and disappear.
"I'm fine, it's just... my heart is heavy with sorrow."
Constantine replied, looking pained. Weren't these rabbits of his dying for nothing? They were all his children!
Su Ming's mouth twitched slightly as he considered whether he should suggest Constantine go to Africa or the Amazon River Basin, to learn with a tribe of cannibals?
In those tribes, when loved ones die, they often eat them, which may sound like cannibalism but is more a custom of eating corpses.
People eating people—Su Ming firmly opposed this. But if it's eating rabbits, that should be acceptable, right?
In every battle, Constantine wastes at least a dozen rabbits. Such a shame, he treats these rabbits as his children, raising each to be plump. Even if he eats them, it can't heal the pain in his heart, but at least it will fortify his body.
Sinking into sorrow every day, crying consistently, may result in poor nutrition. This can't go on.
On the other hand, Ronan's nutritional supplements seem promising. When they return to Earth, Su Ming plans to discuss the idea of popsicles with the council below.
These random thoughts flashed through his mind as Su Ming landed and squatted beside Constantine, adjusting his cape to tuck it beneath his belly.
"Magic always comes at a price, you know that."
"Yes... I know, and I've never regretted it. It's just that sometimes, I dream of whether there's magic in this world that doesn't require any cost."
Constantine pulled out a handkerchief to wipe his face and blew his nose vigorously, his beard appearing disheveled. His big belly swayed back and forth, nearly causing him to topple into the mud.
Su Ming smacked his lips but his face remained expressionless under his strangulation disguise.
From what he knew, in the Marvel World, humans wanting to cast spells invariably get entangled in the 'cost' system. Constantine is considered lucky in that regard.
At least, besides Black and White Magic, he also knows some Shamanism. That eerie power doesn't have any obvious cost, its side effect is merely nausea.
Marvel's Shamanism, also known as Voodoo, sources its power from the Voodoo God—a deity with peculiar interests; if you make him happy, you can gain power.
Generally, Shaman Magic requires things like chicken eyeballs, bat droppings, and toad eggs—disgusting stuff.
A bunch of bizarre materials, ground in a cauldron and stirred, then gulped down with both liquid and solid at once, followed by singing and dancing.
Considering Constantine has seen the real face of his little cousin, he probably wouldn't be disgusted even if he had to eat these animal materials until full, right?
His little cousin had a Shaman friend, codename Black Claw, specializing in the necromancy of Shamanism, skilled at manipulating weak chicken undead and creating low-quality voodoo zombies.
To keep the Voodoo God happy, he perpetually wore a yellow rooster headgear, often resorting to humor during spells, along with imitating chicken sounds...
"My condolences, take some rest for a while."
Su Ming didn't know how to comfort Constantine, lacking empathy for the dead rabbits; their thought processes just didn't align, so how to console?
The Ancient One had the apprentices at Kama Taiji practice martial arts precisely to reduce the frequency of spell casting.
In the realm of American Comics, mages increase power and agility, warriors increase intelligence and charm—it's common sense to live well.
Still, Constantine held his belly and stood up, tears in his eyes now replaced with determination: "No need to rest, let's proceed, what do you need me to do?"
In the darkness, even the wind ceased, the sea seemingly stopped its waves, with only a faint salty smell wafting through.
Su Ming wasn't sentimental; after all, the sooner they finished here, the sooner Constantine could rest, and he had a plan to deal with the Great Serpent.
"Teleportation Array, Mephisto's Hell."
There's no choice; Mephisto's domain isn't within the Nine Realms, the Rainbow Bridge is unreachable, only relying on Dark Magic can help.
If there weren't mages on hand, catching the Evil Spirit Knight in a trap could achieve the same outcome, which would compel Mephisto to come to Su Ming.
The current Evil Spirit Knight, Su Ming wasn't very familiar with him, is likely the one riding a horse? Although he has a plan for dealing with the Evil Spirit Knight, it's always troublesome to provoke an undead monster that's on fire without reason.
Constantine took a deep breath and promptly walked out of the mangrove forest, moved to the relatively solid ground of the beach, drew a dagger, cut his hand and began using his blood to draw a Magic Array.
Much of Hell Magic is related to flesh and blood; to sneak into Hell, using blood for the Array is safest. Summoning a Demon from Hell also requires flesh and soul as offerings most effectively.
At this moment, Su Ming felt slightly touched. The Magic Prince Monac, what a great comrade. For a goal he couldn't even understand himself, he bled and wept without complaint.
Monac was from a well-off family and lacked nothing. Su Ming could only wait until he returned to Earth to send him some high-quality rabbit breeds as a token of thanks, and send him more popsicles once the company makes them.
However, once the array lit up, Su Ming immediately ordered the other two to stay put and maintain the teleportation gate, while he walked in alone.
...........
If Surtur's Hell was dominated by flames, with lava and high temperatures everywhere, then Mephisto's Hell was quite comprehensive, containing a bit of every kind of energy.
Darkness, flames, flesh, death — all could be seen here.
The teleportation location was unclear, but the first thing that greeted him was a scream. On top of a pile of bones stood a pillar, with a shapeless remnant of a body tied to it, the source of the scream.
Two hellhounds were digging into the remnant's intestines, and the surroundings were a mess, blood pouring down like a fountain from the sky, swaying with the shaking of the dogs' heads.
Su Ming had no intention of intervening; it was a soul that previously might have been a human but wasn't anymore.
Many souls had fallen into Hell, and Mephisto enjoyed torturing souls in various ways to amuse himself. His place was the largest concentration camp among all Hell Planes.
He didn't particularly need the souls to serve him, he just enjoyed their screams or moans, treating them as musical instruments of flesh.
Souls in Hell served as both labor and currency, and as a lord, Mephisto was wealthy.
However, according to comic book settings, Mephisto's true superior was 'Death', the creator and master of all Death Gods, King Yamas, and Hell Demon Kings in the myths and legends of the Multiverse.
Su Ming had seen DC's Death but had no intention of meeting Marvel's Death. This 'Death' was overly anthropomorphized, with an extremely complex personality.
None of this stopped Mephisto from harvesting souls to gain immense power, and how soul energy was used depended on the demons' own abilities.
Su Ming stepped out of Heimdall's sight and transformed back to his original form, taking off his helmet to smoke. The air here was filled with the smell of sulfur and blood; even with eyes closed, one knew they were in Hell.
Defeating a lord in Hell was almost impossible, but Su Ming didn't plan to fight on this trip; he came to chat and gather information.
It wasn't just this pile of bones that had someone on it; looking around, similar bone mounds filled the view, stretching to the foot of lava-covered mountains in the distance.
The work of these hellhounds was to ensure the souls wailed in different tones, pleasing this Hell's master. Whether Mephisto could hear them from over ten kilometers away was questionable, but they worked diligently.
While souls were in Hell, they mostly stayed in a chaotic state, feeling pain but lacking the intelligence they had in life, cycling endlessly between torture and torment.
Tortured, repaired by Hell energy, then tortured again.
Generally, ordinary people who died went to the palace of 'Death' through the Death God's scythe, while those appearing in Hell were the ones who made pacts with demons in life.
Not just fools, but also those who deserved their fate.
For a living person like Su Ming to appear here was quite unusual, and many hellhounds with blood-red eyes were already turning their gaze toward him, even putting down their work.
But it didn't matter; Su Ming had frequented DC's Hell due to Constantine's example, teaching him not to meddle in any affairs there and just puff on a cigarette to achieve his goals.
And the greatest bargaining chip was his own soul.
"Don't mind me, carry on, I'm looking for Mephisto." Su Ming passed through the gaps in the bone piles, casually patting a hellhound's head, staining his hand with blood: "Tsk, quite realistic."
Hell energy gave these souls temporary bodies so they could feel pain; hence, these flesh and blood existed on the border of being and non-being, and once Su Ming left here, he'd be clean again.
Moreover, these void entities wouldn't fill the hellhounds' bellies; hunger and bloodlust only made them more diligent in 'working'.
The hellhounds didn't react, possibly due to a language barrier. They also didn't attack, just silently watching his back as he walked further, stepping on shattered bones and filthy blood.
Frankly speaking, being stared at by a pack of bloodthirsty beasts in such a manner would instinctively send chills up one's spine, a natural bodily reaction.
But not for Su Ming; fear was a non-existent emotion in his heart, for he was the one who wielded fear.
He continued with a cigarette in his mouth, heading toward the distant mountain peaks where Mephisto was.
Crossing putrid streams and stepping on crackling bones, Su Ming reached the foot of the mountain, encountering a group of demons and Destruction Maidens.
He could have flown straight up and appeared before Mephisto, but that would have been rude, given that he was, after all, the ruler of the plane, so it was better to inform someone and follow protocol.
However, seeing the current setup on the opposite side, it seemed Mephisto intended to weigh Su Ming's worth.