Chapter 590: The Demonic Infant Descends
A Tense Wait
When it came to childbirth, all three men were novices. They had no idea what to do. Kate Nash's screams were loud enough to take the roof off, yet the three of them—Luke, Eight, and John Constantine—ran around like headless chickens.
The room was a chaotic mess, completely disorganized.
Finally, Zatanna, being a woman, took charge. She kicked the two men out, ordering them to prepare boiled water, scissors, and medicine. She then followed the instructions from a video, simultaneously comforting the mother and assisting with the delivery.
Time crawled by. An hour passed, and there was still no movement from the room. Eight was sweating nervously, pacing back and forth in the hallway. Kate was over fifty—a high-risk elderly mother—where a slight mistake could easily result in the loss of both mother and child.
Meanwhile, more mist began to gather outside the castle. Within the hazy fog, hair-raising shrieks could occasionally be heard.
Luke stood by the window, coldly watching the army of phantoms flying in the distance. The wandering spirits covered the mountainside. They had been cleared twice, yet they kept recklessly rushing toward the castle.
John Constantine muttered under his breath,
"Something is seriously wrong here."
Luke said coldly, "Anyone who isn't blind can see that. The question is, where is the source?"
John glanced behind him. Seeing the President was far away, he leaned in close to Luke and spoke in a low voice.
"That child... is very likely a Demon King Reborn."
"Do you think I'd believe that nonsense?"
John shook his head. "I'm not lying to you. Look at the restless dead outside. Haven't you noticed? Their purpose for coming here isn't to cause destruction; it's to guard... to guard the King who is about to be born."
Luke fell silent. He had seen it but didn't want to admit it.
"That child possesses a naturally evil soul. Before he's even born, he can command phantoms and malicious spirits. When he grows up..." He left the rest unsaid; the implications were clear.
Luke said intently, "So, you want him dead."
"Don't accuse me! I never said that."
John waved his hands repeatedly. He pulled a cigarette from his pocket, lit it, and took a deep drag. "Some things... how should I put it? They can't be viewed normally. Like the child in that room. His growth will lead to the deaths of many innocent people."
"This is fate. The only way to stop it is to prepare in advance."
Thump!
Eight rushed forward and punched John, sending him sprawling to the floor.
"Shut your foul mouth! That is my child!"
John was speechless, only able to protect his head. What could he do? The man hitting him was the President of the United States!
Luke looked at both of them expressionlessly and continued to gaze into the distance. Though John Constantine was unreliable, there was some truth to his words. From a safety perspective, the child could not be kept!
Eight sensed his original's thoughts and quickly said,
"I want to talk over there."
Luke said nothing, turning to leave. Eight quickly followed. They stopped only when they reached the door of the study.
"You seem very concerned about that child."
"He's different."
"How is he different?"
Eight hesitated slightly. "That child's soul is related to our source. I'm not certain he can control the Green Flame, but the resonance radiating from his soul is unmistakable."
"Biologically, he has no relation to us, but in terms of soul, he is our child. And also..." He looked completely conflicted at this point, plucking up his courage to finally speak.
"The issue of descendants!"
After saying this, he deeply lowered his head.
Luke's face turned iron-grey.
"You're courting death."
Eight said hesitantly, "Some things cannot be concealed forever. Over the years, you've been with many women, but none have gotten pregnant. I believe you've sensed it too."
Luke stared coldly at him, an intense murderous intent bursting from his eyes.
"Are you implying that my body is incapable?"
"No, no!"
Eight waved his hands repeatedly, his face pale. "We are, of course, aware of how strong your body is. The problem is not there; it is the soul. The Green Flame brings immense power, but it also carries a hidden danger. It is what prevents the birth of new life."
Luke said icily, "Is that the excuse you fabricated to protect him? How do you know I can't have children?"
"..."
Luke's gaze became even more menacing. The burning flame in his eyes made Eight tremble uncontrollably.
"You think I don't know about the Green Flame? You think I don't know its dangers? You think I haven't considered a solution?"
"I'll handle my own matters. I don't need your concern!"
Eight's body went limp, and he began to fall.
"Stand up straight."
Eight immediately tensed up, too terrified to move.
"Is this your thought? Or is it theirs?"
Eight quickly shook his head. "It's entirely my own idea. It has nothing to do with them."
"You are clever."
Luke sneered, about to speak, when a blood-stained Zatanna rushed out of the room.
"Quick! The Madam... she can't hold on!"
Eight's face drastically changed. He immediately ran towards the room. Luke followed closely. John started to follow but was shot down by a fierce glare from Zatanna.
The air inside the room was putrid. Alcohol and blood mixed together with an indescribable, sharp, fishy odor. The pale-faced Kate Nash lay on the bed, her lips white, her forehead covered in cold sweat. Her physical condition was dire; she was even experiencing localized spasms.
For a woman over fifty, childbirth was tantamount to suicide.
Zatanna said nervously, "She's nearing exhaustion, and she's showing signs of mild coma. You two need to find a way to help! If this drags on, both mother and child will be lost."
Eight looked at Luke expectantly. He knew his original self must have a solution.
The atmosphere was heavy.
Luke kept a grim expression, wavering between saving her and not. He did not want this child to be born, but the scene before him made it difficult to steel his heart. Motherly love is the greatest power. To simply let her die would leave a permanent shadow on the rest of his life.
After a moment of hesitation, he finally walked to the bedside. He reached out and placed his finger on the pregnant woman's brow, injecting a continuous stream of divinity converted into life force into her body.
Kate Nash slowly opened her eyes. She took a long, deep breath, as if returning from the dead. The next second, she started screaming in pain again.
Luke didn't know how he got through the night. By the time dawn broke, he was in a state of exhaustion. Zatanna was equally broken, having previously believed childbirth to be a sacred and beautiful event.
"Luke!"
Eight, standing at the bedroom door, beckoned to him, looking nervous.
Luke tossed his cigarette butt, stood up, and walked over.
"Something's wrong with the baby?"
He spoke as he closed the door. "Look at his eyes."
Luke focused his gaze and frowned instantly.
The baby's eyes were mismatched. The left eye was pitch-black and lifeless, radiating intense Black Magic fluctuations. The right eye was eerie green, with a fire seemingly burning in the depths of its pupil.
Even more unsettling, the little one wasn't crying or fussing. Upon noticing the two men, it stared at them fixedly, without blinking.
Luke even sensed a hint of malice emanating from him. It was hard to imagine that this was the gaze of an infant.
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