The air in the abandoned factory reeked of rust and rotten flesh.
Madison's brain felt like it was filled with lead, making it heavy and hard to lift her head. Her eyelids were impossibly heavy, every struggle to open them was like trying to lift a mountain.
Even when she forced her eyes open, Madison could feel a crimson film over her vision.
This wasn't a metaphorical blood-red, of course—her forehead really was gashed open, and warm blood trickled down her brow bone, obscuring the sight in her right eye.
"Damn it! What's wrong with me?"
Her muddled brain prevented Madison from remembering anything. She blinked, trying to clear away the sticky liquid, but only made the uncomfortable feeling in her eyes worse.
The damp, moldy smell mixed with the stench of blood assaulted her nostrils, making the fourteen-year-old girl's stomach clench.
"I'm an eighteenth-line child star in Hollywood, I can do movies and TV shows, and as for adult films, maybe I'll consider it when I'm seventy or eighty, after I've lost my looks, abused drugs, and am desperate to survive on the streets... Please, just don't take my kidneys," Madison screamed hysterically, driven by the instinct for survival.
No one replied.
The only answer was the crackling sound of candles burning.
Twelve black candles formed a perfect circle, and she was tied to a stone altar in the center. Magic diagrams were etched onto the floor around her, looking like prerequisite runes for some kind of ritual.
The fogginess in Madison's brain was connected to this. Although there was no one else present, loud, chaotic noises constantly drilled into her mind.
Her temples throbbed.
Every heartbeat felt like someone hammering her skull.
"Ugh…"
"Is anyone there?"
A cold, hard sensation came from her back.
"I have to save myself!" Madison finally managed to pry open her eyelids, finding herself tied to a rough stone platform. The water-soaked hemp ropes bit into her wrists and ankles.
Dim light shone from above, casting distorted shadows on the cement floor. She hadn't even remembered that she was a witch, her mind clouded by a thick fog.
Only the single-minded obsession that she hadn't become a big star yet, and shouldn't die in a place like this, kept her struggling. However, because her body was weak and limp, she couldn't use her fingernails to cut the ropes.
"I can't remember which movie it was, but there was definitely a movie where this worked..." Madison's primary source of common knowledge was, most of the time, movies and TV shows.
She was utterly baffled.
Just then, "Da-da-da..."
Footsteps approached.
Heavy, slow, and possessing a non-human rhythm. Madison's breath hitched, her pupils expanding to their limit in the gloom. A colossal silhouette emerged from the shadows.
A bull's head.
A human body.
Its nearly three-meter-tall physique cast a distorted shadow under the dim light.
But something wasn't right.
The Minotaur's body looked like it was crudely stitched together. The left arm was thicker than the right, the skin color was uneven, and the black thread at the seams was hideous, like centipedes.
The most bizarre part was the head—it seemed to be the head of a white-legged bison.
However, it had bronze-colored horns, amber eyes, and its nostrils snorted sulfurous fumes—all completely out of place with the patched-up human corpse body below.
"Don't come any closer!" The tied-up Madison looked utterly terrified. She frantically tried to struggle, and the rough hemp ropes chafed her wrists and ankles raw.
A broken scream escaped Madison's throat.
The bull-headed demon quickly raised a finger and pressed it against its hideous mouth.
"Shh—"
It made a gesture to silence her.
The wary voice was low like an underground rumble but deliberately hushed, "Little witch brought home by Ian-God, you must not make a sound right now."
As it spoke, the bull-headed demon reached out to untie the knots on Madison's wrists, but the fingers, which didn't belong to a single owner, wouldn't obey. Madison watched as it failed three times to grasp the end of the rope.
"The body I pieced together myself really isn't as perfect as the body Ian-God pieces together! Damn it!"
The bull-headed demon mumbled, sounding embarrassed. It tried again and failed, then let out a frustrated growl, and a small puff of sparks shot out of its nose.
"What body are you talking about?" Madison felt something on the tip of her mind, as if her memory was returning. She noticed that the bull-headed demon's right hand had only three fingers.
And they were clearly from different people, their skin tones ranging from pale to dark.
"What exactly are you?" The memory-addled Madison was sensitive to the words "Ian-God" She stopped struggling and just stared intensely at the massive demon.
"It seems this thing is affecting your memory." Saying this, the bull-headed demon used its six legs to wipe away a corner of the complex magic circle on the floor.
This was the drawback of drawing a magic circle with human blood.
It was easily damaged.
It was completely inferior to the ingenuity of the [Ian Magic Circle]. Suddenly, a flood of knowledge rushed into Madison's mind, and her eyes instantly became clear.
As the magic circle was damaged, she immediately felt the buzzing in her ears vanish.
Her brain quickly started working again.
"Do you remember me? I'm Bar the Abyssal Demonic Bucket, the garbage can Ian-God can't live without." The bull-headed demon continued trying to untie the ropes binding Madison.
It began testing Madison with a tentative tone, checking if she was still herself.
Ian-God?
Madison blinked.
The bull-headed demon Bar continued to remind her.
"A little while ago, you took me from the ruins of Ian-God's house. You even tried to make a wish to me, asking me to turn your M&Ms into illegal happy beans."
It was trying to help Madison awaken her dormant memories.
It was highly effective.
The memory center in Madison's brain was suddenly jolted awake.
More memories flooded in like a tide, flashing scene by scene—the mess everywhere, how she packed up her desk mate's belongings from the ruins, ready to demand a big favor the next day.
She found her parents.
She even performed the real magic she had learned for them, not mere street tricks. To the astonishment of her parents, Madison remembered fighting her way out and taking them to an official shelter.
"I shouldn't have listened to you, saying I could use the monsters invading the city to film my own personal hero special!" Madison remembered everything.
She was supposed to stay with her parents in the shelter, but she listened to the demon's tempting words, decided to go out, and achieve fame as a star-level superhero. Instead, she was clubbed from behind while posing for the camera.
It happened inside a restaurant.
The lighting was dim, and the patrons were eerily silent. When she approached the bar, everyone turned their heads—their eyes were completely black, without any white.
At first, Madison thought the lucky people she had saved were just fans of colored contacts. Then she was attacked. The last thing she heard before passing out was someone calling her the Sorceress Supreme.
And that the murderer of the boss's son had been found.
"That book! Right! They took that book!"
Madison's eyes snapped open. All her memories had returned. She turned her head to stare at the patchwork bull-headed demon beside her. "And you! You betrayed me the moment someone picked you up off the ground!"
In the memory flash, Madison recalled how the bull-head, which was just a head at the time, betrayed her faster than she could take off her makeup.
There was no hesitation at all.
The bull-headed demon Bar wasn't ashamed of this, in fact, it even smiled faintly and instinctively straightened its back—a movement that made its pieced-together body groan ominously.
"That's called sizing up the situation, enduring humiliation, and having true cunning!" It spoke self-righteously in a low voice. "You have to understand, those things aren't human."
"They're demons, much more powerful than me, the kind that specializes in making deals at crossroads. To save you, I had no choice but to use the wisdom I learned from Ian-God and infiltrate them as a turncoat."
"See, I've seized the opportunity and acted at the right moment." For a warrior-class demon, engaging in clever strategy was certainly something that made the bull-headed demon happy.
It grew more excited as it spoke, its sprayed sparks nearly singeing Madison's bangs.
"Do you know how expensive my bangs are?"
Madison twisted her head, dodging quickly.
She couldn't refute him. She felt that his logic was, damn it, surprisingly sound.
"You truly are Ian's pet." She lifted her chin, trying hard to conceal her previous panic. "You have a little bit of cunning. I was actually just testing you a moment ago."
"I understood that a long time ago, of course." The young brat still liked to pretend to be smart, but then again, her limited career as a child star hadn't included many clever roles.
She had basically played the role of a little bitch since she debuted. Her typecasting was very consistent. Horror films, dramas, comedies—in every one, her character was the same template: the wicked girl at school.
"Testing? Only Ian-God can test me!" The bull-headed demon didn't mock Madison, it simply offered a serious rebuttal, then looked at the candles on the floor.
"Whoosh~"
The demon, now operating with wisdom, exhaled through its nose, using a spark to light its finger. Then, it used the burning finger to successfully burn through the ropes on Madison's body.
"Sizzle-sizzle-sizzle~"
The rope broke instantly.
Madison quickly flipped over and crawled down from the unsettling stone platform.
"See, using my brain more is so much better. Look how brightly my hand is burning." The bull-headed demon raised its flaming finger, quite satisfied with its current resourcefulness.
"You could have just used the candles on the floor…" Madison didn't want to be too critical of the demon that had just saved her. She just flexed her scarred wrists.
"Where's my phone?"
In this completely inappropriate situation, the young brat actually wanted to take some photos for sad literary captions.
"You better put in a good word for me with Ian-God," Bar mumbled. A sticky green liquid dripped from its burning finger, hitting the stone platform with a corrosive hiss.
"No problem."
The young brat quickly nodded. She still needed Bar the demon's help. "Can you really not turn my M&Ms into happy beans so I can take them to Hollywood and sell them?"
The public was aware of illegal substance use in Hollywood.
The rich stars there would pay much higher prices than on the street.
"I'm just a demon's head, I'm not Aladdin's lamp, for goodness sake." Bar rolled a massive bull-eye, an expression that looked quite comical on a Minotaur.
Upon hearing this, Madison pouted.
"Then spit out my M&Ms. It was a whole bottle! You didn't say that when you were eating them." Her memory was fully intact now, and she clearly remembered their previous interaction.
"Have you ever seen a garbage can spit out garbage?" Bar was frantically using its various legs to wipe away the magic circle on the ground. It seemed intent on destroying the evidence to prevent anyone from knowing it had been there.
After all, demons that could walk on six legs after arriving in the human world were truly rare.
Madison was about to retort when she suddenly heard an unusual noise and the sound of chanting from a distance. Bar immediately tensed its body, its patched muscles bulging.
Its various arms grabbed a weapon—a hoe, a hammer, and a crowbar. Hearing the noise outside, the little witch became just as nervous as Bar.
"Are they back?"
Madison looked surprised and uncertain.
"It shouldn't be this early." Bar's cloudy eyes glowed faintly in the darkness. It cocked its head, listening for a moment, then shook its head, its horns tracing a subtle arc in the air.
"Those guys are busy preparing a summoning ritual right now, trying to bring their boss into the human world. They shouldn't be returning to this temporary nest until nightfall."
The bull-headed demon's voice was a deep rumble from its chest. It had truly infiltrated the demon organization and obtained much highly classified information.
"Demon boss?" Madison wrinkled her nose. "Is it Lucifer?"
Bar snorted in derision, spitting out a few sparks. "Those scum aren't fit to serve Lucifer. The boss of these demons is just a Crossroads Demon with a bit of skill."
Saying this, it dismissively flicked its tail—which was actually half a human spine with a small tuft of hair dangling from the end. It was clear it had a vivid imagination when piecing together its body.
"We have to find Ian," Madison said, biting her lip. A drop of blood oozed from the cut on her forehead as her expression changed. "He'll definitely know how to deal with this kind of guy."
The young brat always trusted Ian.
"Ian-God definitely doesn't like other people touching his book. He'll devour every demon except me." Bar's certainty was also based on its understanding of Ian.
There was even a hint of anticipation in its eyes.
When it was blending in with the other demons, they often asked why it was drooling. None of the demons knew that the Abyssal Demonic Bucket just wanted to eat the scraps left over by Ian.
That was enough for it to evolve again.
Thinking with great excitement, Bar the demon cautiously led Madison toward the door. The abandoned factory corridor was like the intestine of some giant beast, damp, dark, and reeking of a mixture of rust and rotten meat.
Madison's feet hit the cold cement floor.
Every step reminded her of the fear she felt lying on the altar just moments ago.
The cut on her forehead throbbed.
Blood was congealed on her eyelashes, blurring the vision in her right eye slightly.
Out of caution, the young brat raised her hand, ready to use magic at any moment.
However, precisely at this moment, she realized she still couldn't mobilize the magic in her body.
"No, what's going on?" Madison realized something was wrong. She touched the back of her neck and found that someone seemed to have carved a symbol there with a knife.
This was clearly a method used to lock Madison's magic. However, since she hadn't systematically studied magic, the little witch didn't know how to break it.
"How do I get my magic back?"
She sought help from the bull-headed demon next to her.
But she had clearly asked the wrong person.
"I'm a warrior from Hell. You're asking me such a tricky question?" Bar did possess a lot of knowledge passed down about magic, but it was all knowledge for harming others, not saving them.
At best, all it knew was that snapping Madison's neck might terminate the magical constraint on her.
"We should leave quickly…" Without her magic to rely on, Madison knew she was just a helpless beauty, and she felt very insecure right now.
"Then walk faster."
Bar urged her in a low voice from the front. Its patchwork, long legs created a muffled thudding sound on the ground.
Madison sped up.
"Bang-bang-bang~"
Suddenly, she and Bar the demon heard a series of continuous dull thuds coming from the factory room on the right. Madison froze abruptly and subconsciously snatched a hoe from Bar's grip.
"W-what was that sound?"
As the person and the demon watched, the iron door of the factory room on the right suddenly creaked open.
A flickering candlelight shone through the slightly ajar door.
Clearly, the first noise they heard, and the one they just heard, both came from that room. Bar made a shushing gesture and tiptoed toward the gap in the door.
This was not an easy feat for the demon with its several mismatched long legs.
"Could it be other people who were kidnapped?"
Madison followed closely behind Bar and peered through the crack. Just as she suspected, a man was indeed hanging in the center of the room.
He looked much more miserable than she had been when she was tied up.
"H-help…"
The man struggled to lift his head, his lips dry.
He was shackled by iron chains around his wrists and suspended from the ceiling like livestock in a slaughterhouse. His short blonde hair was matted with blood, and his cheap, no-name trench coat was badly torn.
"Okay."
Madison was about to step inside, but Bar the demon stopped her with one of its arms.
"Wait, I'm trying to be a superhero here, saving people so they can praise me to reporters. Maybe I'll even get an interview myself."
"Have you seen Ian's The Boys? I think I could be a star like that." Madison looked confusedly at the wary demon Bar.
"Save him?"
Bar the demon scoffed. "He won't boost your fame. Instead, he'll bring you bad luck. He'd probably turn around and sell you to another demon from Hell."
Its tone was absolute, which made Madison slightly stunned.
"Abyssal Demonic Bucket, do you know this guy?" Madison was a girl with high emotional intelligence, so she could keenly detect the resentment and gnashing of teeth in Bar the demon's voice.
"That's John Constantine. No demon doesn't know him." Bar squeezed the name out from between its teeth, as if it were holding a mouthful of putrid, bloody pus.
"John Constantine, the guy who brings bad luck to anyone who touches him."
"A demon might be a beast, but Constantine is worse than a beast." Saying this, the bull-headed demon pushed open the iron door and strode up to the man hanging below.
It tilted its head back and spat out a thick glob of phlegm. The spit landed precisely on Constantine's face, slowly sliding down the straight bridge of the exorcist's nose—the exorcist detested by both demons and humans.
Constantine didn't seem bothered by this.
He simply raised his head and looked at the little witch standing in the doorway, clutching the hoe tightly.
"Don't listen to this demon's wicked advice, sweetie. You really do need to save me. Only by saving me can everyone in the world survive… Only we can survive."
Constantine's voice was very hoarse, as if he hadn't had water in a long time.
He twisted his body under the constraints of the iron chains, trying to find a comfortable position—a difficult task given his current predicament.
"I'm a good person, a very good person. John Constantine. My profession is exorcist. Just hearing my profession should tell you how great I am, right?"
It was clear that Constantine was desperately trying to secure his rescue.
He and Bar the demon were both attacking each other.
Madison had her own judgment on the matter.
"He's my desk mate's pet demon. He must be a good demon." After all, Bar the demon had saved her and was Ian's pet. Madison naturally felt that Bar couldn't be too bad.
Constantine's expression froze instantly when he heard this.
"Are you sure? He's a minion of Trigon, well, the lowest class of minion." John Constantine was dangling in mid-air, his blonde bangs stuck to his bleeding forehead.
Yet, he still managed to crack his trademark sarcastic smile.
"Shut up!"
The veins bulged on Bar's original bull-head, and two plumes of sulfurous white smoke shot from its nostrils.
"Do you think Bar the Great is still the same as before? I'm the Abyssal Demonic Bucket now! I've found the road to a glorious future! My future is limitless! I have the potential of a Great Demon!"
"Look at the curve of these horns! I was born to be a Demon Lord!"
Its several legs and arms flailed wildly as it emphatically repeated the brainwashing Ian usually subjected it to, which the demon clearly believed wholeheartedly.
Faced with the demon's rebuttal, Constantine just sneered.
He ignored the demon's protest and looked back at the bewildered little witch.
"Do you know who Trigon is? He's a truly infamous and terrifying entity." Constantine's tone grew serious, and his blue eyes narrowed into slits.
Then, without waiting for the little witch to reply, the man looked back at Bar the demon, his voice taking on a suggestive edge. "I think you understand better than I do that betraying Trigon doesn't end well."
This was clearly an attempt to offer the demon a deal, possibly involving some means of avoiding Trigon's revenge.
However, Bar the demon seemed completely unfazed.
"Ptooey, Trigon who? I don't know him. I only know Ian-God, Emperor of All Magic—betraying Ian-God, now that's what really doesn't end well."
As it reminisced, Bar the demon shivered.
It didn't fear Trigon. Instead, it was terrified of the mere fourteen-year-old Ian.
In this demon's heart, Ian truly had the potential to be the new ruler of Hell.
"????????"
Constantine was dumbfounded. This wasn't what he had expected.
"Heh, looks like you don't know who Ian-God is, but I do. I know him very well." The bull-headed demon said, raising several hands together to pinch Constantine's jaw.
Constantine stared directly into Bar the demon's eyes.
"He's a god, right? The boy, I've met him too." Constantine suddenly changed his tone, his voice becoming smooth and slick. He recalled the warning the angel had given him.
"In fact, Ian and I are great friends. We had tea at Starbucks last time—" Constantine activated his core skill, attempting to deceive both the demon and the little witch.
"Is that true?"
Madison was the type to be easily fooled. She nearly fell for it.
But Bar the demon, who had always followed Ian, was different.
"I don't believe a word of it!"
Bar's original bull-head burst into a deafening roar of laughter. Dust showered down from the ceiling. It immediately slapped Constantine several times.
"You saw Ian-God and turned tail and ran! I've always been stuck to Ian-God's butt, watching you with my own eyes. You ran so fast! I bet you owe him a lot of money."
The bull-headed demon made a ridiculous gesture of a small swinging keychain.
"…"
Constantine was speechless.
"Ian-God will reward me." Bar suddenly reached out to rummage through Constantine's trench coat pockets. Its patchwork fingers were fast yet clumsy as they searched. Amidst Constantine's loud protests, it pulled out all the magical items Constantine had hidden.
"Damn it! I don't owe him money! Give it back! Give it back! His old man even stole my psychic card!" Constantine was horrified, writhing futilely in mid-air.
He looked like a turtle flipped onto its back.
"Then go tell his old man that, if you dare." Bar the demon packed up all of Constantine's possessions, not even leaving him his trench coat.
"Wait, what kind of scene is this? At least leave him his underwear."
Watching the exchange, Madison suddenly felt a sense of absurd detachment—as if she were in some twisted theater, but the actors were a demon, an exorcist, and herself, a hapless witch.
"Fine, I won't take the underwear. Mainly because Ian-God took Savitar's underwear last time, and I learned from it." Bar the demon ultimately adopted Madison's suggestion.
Only then did Madison lower the hands she had used to cover her eyes.
"A loyal demon like me would be sought after in any Hell! I am bound to be rewarded!" Bar the demon was full of confidence in its future.
It had truly achieved enlightenment. What Trigon? It only believed in the one true master in the world, Ian-God.
It had clearly realized, through its introspection and summary over the past few days, that the early deaths of its father, mother, grandfather, and grandmother must have been because they had all followed the wrong person.
Starting with its generation, it had to change its affiliation. Perhaps it would secure a permanent, reliable position.
"Let's go, let's go."
Saying this, Bar the demon was about to leave with Madison. As a final flourish, it spat another gob of phlegm at Constantine. It was evident that every demon hated Constantine with a passion.
"Wait!" Constantine abandoned all dignity, forgetting the deep hatred of being spat on twice. Seeing the demon and the witch reaching the doorway, he suddenly raised his voice, and the iron chains rattled violently.
"Don't leave me! I'm telling the truth! You really have to save me!"
His voice was incredibly loud. "I know what those demons are planning. They aren't just trying to summon their boss! What they're doing will absolutely poison the entire human world."
Perhaps Constantine hadn't been exaggerating from the start.
Hearing this, Madison paused at the door, the sunlight catching her blonde hair. The girl turned back, without any curiosity. "As long as we find Ian, he'll definitely be able to figure out what the demons are up to."
It was as if everyone in the DC Universe liked to find an external brain.
Perhaps the little witch's external brain was Ian.
"That boy, no matter how powerful, is just a nascent god!" Constantine's voice held an unprecedented urgency. "You have no idea what those demons have in their hands—"
His voice abruptly cut off.
Madison was startled.
She saw Constantine gasp, his mouth wide open like a fish out of water. His eyeballs bulged, and purplish-blue veins erupted beneath his pale skin. This was definitely not something that could be faked by acting.
"What's wrong?"
The little witch still had some kindness in her heart. She rushed forward to check if Constantine's neck was caught in the chains, but there was nothing around his neck.
He was kicking his legs repeatedly.
His body convulsed violently a few times.
Then he hung limply from the chains like a puppet with cut strings. He had simply passed out.
"If he wasn't worth a good price to Lucifer, I really would have killed this filthy exorcist… Why does he insist on saying things he shouldn't?"
A gentle voice drifted in from the doorway.
In that instant, Madison felt the blood in her brain instantly congeal. She turned to look at the doorway, where a man in a sharp suit now stood.
Underneath the man's perfectly slicked black hair was an almost flawlessly handsome face.
If his eyes weren't completely black, without whites, and if his right hand wasn't currently piercing Bar's patchwork chest, Madison would have thought he was a banker who had wandered in by mistake.
"C-Crossroads Demon."
Bar's bull-head turned with difficulty, its amber pupils shrinking to pinpoints. Thick, black blood gurgled from its mouth, dripping onto the man's custom suit.
The blood instantly vanished into wisps of smoke.
"No, Abyssal Demonic Bucket, how can you be so weak!"
Madison was horrified. She never expected the demon who had boasted so much to be instantly defeated.
"That's just how low-level demons are, expendable material."
The suited demon explained dismissively on the bull's behalf.
"But he's upgraded several times!"
Madison remembered the bull-headed demon talking about this before.
"I've upgraded, yes, but a low-level demon upgrading doesn't make it a high-level demon. There are also Low-Level First Rank and Low-Level Second Rank. Ian-God said I just reached Low-Level Third Rank."
The bull-headed demon coughed up blood while stubbornly explaining.
"????????"
Madison was speechless.
This was hardly the time for a lecture! Was there something wrong with his brain?
"Heh, a low-level demon will always be a low-level demon." The suited demon didn't understand what the bull-headed demon was saying, but that didn't stop him from scoffing.
"Why did you come back?"
The bull-headed demon spoke weakly.
"We demons are experts at betrayal, aren't we? We sensed something was off about you a long time ago. Trigon wouldn't be interested in the power inside the Sorceress Supreme."
The man in the suit withdrew his hand.
The next moment, "Boom!"
Bar the demon's patchwork body exploded violently, scattering fragments everywhere.
Its head rolled onto the ground with a dull thud, but amidst the flying dust, the cloudy eyes still flickered with cunning light.
No one noticed this.
The impeccably dressed demon approached with a scornful smile, ready to crush the seemingly helpless head with a single stomp. However, when he brought his foot down forcefully, the expected crunch didn't happen.
It was replaced by a hard, solid sensation.
"Hmm?"
The Italian leather shoe hovered three inches above Bar's head, its sole stained with green demon blood. A look of confusion appeared on the handsome face of the suited demon for the first time.
"This isn't funny."
He murmured, then stomped down with sudden force.
Madison's scream caught in her throat. She saw the expensive leather shoe come down hard on Bar's bull-head with a tooth-aching squelch—but the expected sight of the brain splattering didn't occur. The bull-head seemed to have been cast in concrete, not a single crack formed on its skull.
"What's going on?"
The suited demon was stunned.
"Heh-heh, a Wisdom Demon is naturally different from you lot." The bull-head's voice suddenly regained its full strength. It spun on the ground like a football beneath the suited demon's foot.
"I have listened to the true Holy Word and know that the body is merely a burden, and the head is the main body—this is the reward I've reaped for discarding my body and only evolving my head!"
"I put all my energy into evolving my head. What are you going to use to fight me?"
Its voice was a muffled thunder from underground. A fierce column of fire erupted from the bull's mouth, burning through the suited demon's shoe and directly searing his face.
"Such high-level Hellfire! A low-level demon like you shouldn't be this powerful!" The suited demon let out a shriek that wasn't human. He stumbled back, knocking over a row of iron shelves.
His perfect face melted like wax.
"You can do that?" Madison was astonished. Ian's garbage can was talking and spitting fire—that was utterly outrageous. She felt her worldview had been completely shattered again.
"Listening to the Holy Word made me strong! I am not Bar! I am now Barrett of Fire!" Bar's head spun in a circle on the floor, and fire swept over the frantically retreating suited demon.
The flame collided with a pitch-black barrier, sparking with blinding intensity.
Seeing the battle between the two demons intensifying, Madison snapped out of her stupor. Her eyes scanned the pile of items Bar the demon had stripped from Constantine.
"I have to help the Abyssal Demonic Bucket. He still owes me a whole bucket of M&Ms."
The witch, unable to use her magic, started thinking. She crouched down and frantically searched through the pile of trench coat, cigarette packs, and spare change.
There was even a bag of sand in there. Heaven only knew why anyone would keep a bag of sand in their clothes. Magical sand?
"Damn old chain smoker. Why are there over a dozen cigarette packs, and all cheap brands that even a dog wouldn't smoke." The little witch pulled a silver flask from Constantine's inner pocket.
She shook it and heard the sloshing of liquid.
"I hope it's Holy Water."
Madison quickly pulled out the stopper and splashed the liquid at the swiftly dodging suited demon—which was not an easy task, as the suited demon was moving with unnatural speed.
After the first two splashes missed, the water in the flask was nearly gone. Madison frowned, then poured the remaining liquid into her mouth and saturated the area with a spray of the "elixir."
It worked perfectly.
The Holy Water scattered like a celestial shower, landing on the demon's body.
The demon's body immediately sizzled as if being deep-fried.
"You—Ah!" Ravenclaws's curse turned into a scream. White smoke rose from the areas on his chest where the Holy Water had hit. His power and magic were drastically weakened instantly.
Bar the demon, back in its bull-head state, seized the chance and shot out another burst of Hellfire from its mouth. This time, the flames penetrated the weakened magical barrier, engulfing Ravenclaws and turning him into a man on fire. The flames swept over him like a tornado, wrapping around the suited demon and making him yelp loudly. The smell of scorched meat permeated the room.
"Damn witch!"
A distorted roar came from the flames.
Suddenly, the suited demon shrieked in rage, attempting to counterattack. He charged at the witch, still covered in Hellfire. This wasn't a desperate trade, he wanted to drain some of the magic—the ancient god's power—from the witch's body.
Seeing the aggressive demon approaching, the little witch panicked and grabbed the crucifix from the junk pile, slamming it onto the suited demon's head as he stumbled forward.
The fire was still burning.
The air was quiet for a moment.
The suited demon seemed utterly rigid.
However, he quickly realized that nothing had happened.
"Hahaha! You think I'm afraid of this? You have no faith at all! To you, this is just a piece of junk metal!" The suited demon, still burning, roared with laughter.
Madison was flustered, reaching around for something else.
"Little witch! You have to believe! Believe in Ian-God, Emperor of All Magic!" Since the suited demon was close to Madison, the bull-head, afraid to continue spitting fire, screamed from the ground.
This sentence immediately cleared Madison's mind.
"Oh, oh!"
Her mind was blank, so she could only shout loudly.
"Ian-God protect me!"
The little witch gripped the crucifix tightly, as if it were an imaginary holy sword. However, no sooner had she spoken than the suited demon, whose head was being pressed, couldn't help but laugh.
"What kind of nonsense is that? Why don't you look at what you're holding? God won't save those who only—" He raised his hand, ready to siphon off some of the Sorceress Supreme's magic.
Yet, unexpectedly, before he could finish his taunt, the demon felt the crucifix on his forehead suddenly become scalding hot.
"Impossible!"
The demon's smile froze on his face.
In that moment, Madison felt a warm current flow from her palm, running through her veins to her entire body. The worn patterns on the crucifix lit up one by one, as if infused with liquid sunlight.
Then the world turned white.
When Constantine was startled awake by the blinding light, he thought he was at the gates of Heaven. He squinted his smoke-damaged eyes and saw a young girl holding a brilliantly glowing crucifix.
And the Crossroads Demon that had caused him so much trouble was melting in the white light like a wax figure.
It turned into ash.
The white light gradually receded, finally shrinking back into the unassuming crucifix. Madison stared blankly at the object in her hand—it now looked like an ordinary, slightly aged religious ornament.
The room was left with only floating ash and the smell of burnt meat.
"Cough, cough." Bar's head rolled to Madison's feet, its horns covered in ash. It spoke with astonishment, "I knew Ian-God never lies. Faith creates power."
Madison found this entirely reasonable.
Constantine, however, was dumbfounded, his mouth agape.
"What? Is this… magic?" Constantine realized what had happened. His gaze swept over the pile of ash, then to the crucifix in Madison's hand, which was gradually losing its light.
His eyes were filled with shock and incomprehension.
In Constantine's view, holding a crucifix and chanting the name of another god was tantamount to suicide. Yet, this girl had unleashed power more terrifying than he could muster even when feigning piety.
"Did your mother sleep with God?"
After a long pause, Constantine could only stammer out what he thought was the most plausible explanation.
Slap!
The words he couldn't hold back earned the legendary exorcist two more slaps.
...
Metropolis
Urban District
Ian stood in front of Madison's house, knocking on the door.
He planned to find the little punk who hadn't come to class today and retrieve his navigation map so he could find the Dream God's Sandbag, thereby making the Dream God owe him a massive favor.
Just as Ian rang the doorbell for the fifth time, the door suddenly opened.
It was Madison's mother, a beautiful married woman with swollen, red eyes.
"You're Little Mai's alien boyfriend, right?"
She recognized Ian. At least, she thought she did.
"…"
Ian gave a speechless but polite smile. "Auntie, I'm Madison's desk mate. She didn't come to class today, and the teacher asked me to check what was going on."
He generally didn't blink when he lied.
Madison's mother didn't suspect anything. Her eyes welled up again when she mentioned the matter.
"She said she was going out to be a superhero last night. My little lunatic… she never came home. The police said she might have committed suicide at some disaster site."
Her voice was choked with sorrow.
Ian's smile froze completely.
Through the door, he saw Madison's father wiping tears while looking at a photo of his daughter in the living room. Candles and flowers were arranged on the coffee table—it looked like a miniature memorial.
"Uh, maybe her phone just died?" Ian said dryly. He didn't believe the young brat had sacrificed herself, as her strength wasn't actually weak.
If she had died, there should have been a body and witnesses.
However, there was no related information online.
"You don't know… she's been very strange recently. She can conjure fire out of thin air. She calls it witch power." Madison's mother truly didn't hesitate to share everything.
She suddenly grabbed Ian's wrist, her tone bordering on pleading. "If you see her, tell her that her mother is very worried about her, okay?"
Ian felt a slight warmth where his wrist was touched.
He looked deeply at Madison's mother.
"Okay."
Ian nodded. He didn't plan to go inside and offer flowers.
He looked back three times as he walked away, seeing Madison's mother still standing in the doorway, staring at him. It made him feel uneasy. She looked like a hidden witch, just one who didn't want her husband to know.
"Where should I look for the young brat?" Ian scratched his head, looking at his wrist. There were traces of magic there, perhaps Madison's mother had intended to give Ian some guidance.
However, because Ian's body was full of divine power, the magical traces were immediately purified. Ian hadn't even reacted in time.
"If the young brat was in danger, why wouldn't she look for her herself?" Ian pondered, trying to activate his deductive reasoning.
However, his super-brain often had a mind of its own. It failed to start up.
"I really wish I could learn Batman's trick of putting three to five trackers on all my acquaintances." Ian once again felt the rationality of Batman's preparations.
The street was sunny and bright, a stark contrast to Ian's gloomy mood.
He kicked a pebble as he walked, debating whether to ask his father, with his telescopic and super-hearing abilities, for help—though that might mean his father would get scolded by the newspaper boss again.
But Superman would certainly not refuse to save someone.
Just as Ian was about to set off, "Looking for someone?"
A cool female voice came from behind.
Ian spun around abruptly, his nose nearly colliding with a full, round chest.
He stepped back two paces and finally saw who was speaking—a young woman with short blonde hair, wearing a tight leather outfit and bright red lipstick.
She seemed to have appeared out of thin air. Ian hadn't heard her footsteps.
"Wow."
Ian's pupils widened slightly, and the golden glow in his eyes intensified.
"You smell so fragrant, the fragrance of a demon."
He swallowed.
The movement startled the short-haired woman. Her eyes suddenly turned pure black, without whites, like two bottomless abysses—a sight usually enough to scare a grown man.
However, it only made Ian's eyes grow brighter.
The short-haired woman felt an incredibly terrifying sense of oppression.
"What exactly are you?" The short-haired woman's black eyes quickly returned to normal. Her voice was panicked, and she stepped back two paces, her high heels splashing into a puddle on the roadside.
"A lost middle school student?" Ian tilted his head, flashing an innocent smile. "If you can help me find my classmate, I can pretend I didn't smell the human blood on you."
This was an obvious, blatant threat.
The short-haired woman could feel the terror radiating from his gaze.
She had never felt such pure fear. It wasn't the apprehension one felt toward a powerful Demon Lord, nor the revulsion one felt toward a Heavenly Paladin, it was a more primitive, fundamental shiver—like an ant suddenly realizing it was standing under a giant's fingertip.
"You…"
In Ian's eyes, she seemed to see swirling nebulae, the river of time, and her own insignificant place in this vast universe.
Just as she was about to break down, the pressure suddenly vanished.
"Right, what's your name? Which department in Hell do you work for? How are the field benefits?" Ian could tell at a glance that the short-haired woman in front of him wasn't human.
The short-haired woman swallowed, not answering.
Ian didn't mind.
"Is it a deal, demon?"
The boy spoke softly. He knew the demon wouldn't seek him out for no reason and that she knew he was looking for someone. This demon must be connected to the young brat's disappearance.
"If you're looking for someone, follow me." The female demon looked at Ian several times with suspicion, then said the phrase and walked onto the street.
Ian jogged to keep up, his backpack bouncing on his back.
They passed through winding alleys, walking past a butcher shop that reeked of rotten meat and three homeless people who clearly weren't human. Ian enthusiastically observed the increasingly bizarre sights around them.
He was like a child visiting a zoo.
"So I don't need to summon demons after all, they're hiding everywhere in Metropolis." Ian's genuine sigh of relief made the female demon leading the way turn and look at him again.
"We are only appearing now because yesterday's disaster gave us an opportunity." The female demon's answer disappointed Ian slightly, as she didn't know what Ian wanted to do with the demons he summoned.
"Then this isn't so nice."
Ian regained his enthusiasm for carving a demon summoning spell into his mouth.
"We're here."
The woman suddenly stopped. Ian followed her gaze. Before them was a massive Victorian-style mansion. Living briars were wrapped around the iron gates, and fluorescent purple liquid flowed from the fountain. On the lawn in front of the main building, several humanoid figures in maid outfits were trimming hedges that clearly had eyeballs.
"This is the big house of my dreams!" Ian cheered, his golden pupils shining with excitement. "It comes with a horror theme park! An Evil God should live in a creepy place like this!"
It was just a shame this kind of place probably wasn't suitable for his mom and dad. Ian felt a bit regretful.
The short-haired woman's lips twitched.
"Go in. The master here has been waiting for you for a long time." She whispered to Ian.
"The master here, isn't he your master?" Ian was a little surprised. He had thought this female demon was just a lackey sent out by some pretentious demon.
"He and I are only partners."
With that, the female demon tried to leave.
Her expression suggested she deeply regretted taking this job—which was understandable. The terrifying pressure Ian exerted still made the female demon nervous even now.
The other party also called himself an Evil God. This made the female demon even less willing to provoke such trouble.
She quickly disappeared around the corner.
Ian didn't stop her.
"Let's see who actually came to me first. Will he be the first to enjoy my Ultra Bomb!" Ian pushed the gate open, and the hinges let out an unnatural shriek, like the cry of some creature.
The boy strode inside, as if he were just going to a classmate's house to do homework.
The interior of the mansion was even more luxurious than the exterior—if one ignored the blinking paintings on the walls and the chandeliers made of human bones. Ian curiously poked a passing small demon servant, who snarled at him, but then burrowed directly into the floor when Ian's eyes glowed gold.
"A shy gardener."
Ian wanted to acquire this mansion for himself. He wondered if the owner would sell it.
Just then, the double doors of the drawing-room opened automatically, interrupting his planning.
In the drawing-room, sunlight filtered through the thick curtains, casting dappled shadows. The air was filled with a scent of old cigar and aged wood. On the rug in front of the fireplace, a leather sofa rested quietly.
In the center of the room stood a plump man in a purple tailcoat. He had his back to Ian, adjusting a piano made of human bones.
"Ah! You've finally arrived!" The plump man sprang up from the piano stool, opening his arms as if to embrace a long-lost friend. "I'm composing a new piece, and I desperately need audience feedback!"
Ian stood in the doorway, his golden pupils slightly contracted. His gaze swept the room—no ambush, no barrier, just an overly enthusiastic demon and a piano that looked to be made of human bones.
"I'm looking for a friend." Ian frowned, getting straight to the point.
Crowley made an exaggeratedly sad face.
"Yes, yes, I know. It's all a misunderstanding." He said with genuine sincerity. "Actually, I had absolutely no designs on the Sorceress Supreme's power."
The piano suddenly played a discordant, piercing chord.
"He killed your son."
A hoarse voice came from underneath the piano keys, and the air froze for a few seconds.
Crowley impatiently tapped the piano lid.
"He wasn't my biological son."
He turned to Ian and shrugged. "Adopted, impure bloodline, always plotting rebellion."
The information was a bit overwhelming, leaving Ian slightly bewildered.
"So… who exactly are you?"
He was also thrown off by the other party's enthusiastic attitude.
"Oh! How rude of me!" Crowley exaggeratedly slapped his forehead. "Call me Crowley, the current manager of Hell, and a hapless freelancer."
He made a flamboyant bow.
This was not the scene Ian had wanted to see.
Ian's eyebrows furrowed, nearly flying into his hairline. He spoke coaxingly, "Shouldn't you be demanding a price from me? Like my soul or something?"
Clearly, the Evil God was still interested in acquiring this mansion legitimately.
Hearing Ian's words, Crowley burst into laughter, the sound mixed with demonic whispers. "My dear boy, I always prefer peace with those I cannot divine."
He stepped closer, his eyes flickering slightly. "I just landed on Earth. The previous incidents were all my subordinates acting out. I'll kill them all later to help you celebrate."
He spoke casually, as if discussing the evening's dinner menu.
"The Sorceress Supreme matter was a complete misunderstanding. I ordered my subordinate to bring her here to watch the show with us." Saying this, Crowley clapped his hands and instructed a demon to go and "invite" Miss Madison over.
He even used the word "invite."
Faced with such a "polite" demon, Ian felt somewhat at a loss. He felt an impulse to just attack, but the education he'd received since childhood allowed him to maintain basic etiquette.
"You came to Earth to cause trouble, right?" Ian asked tentatively, clearly trying to find an excuse for himself and set a trap for the other party. "Like, you want to rule the universe or something?"
The mysterious demon, however, didn't fall for it.
Crowley shook his head and pulled a silver flask from his suit pocket, taking a sip. "That's too cliché, dear boy."
He smacked his lips.
"I'm here to watch a great show, a great show about Heaven."
Crowley whispered, a dangerous light flickering in his eyes.
Ian's brows were tightly furrowed. "What do you mean?"
He asked in a low voice.
"It means Heaven is about to fall, of course."
The corners of Crowley's mouth curled into a mysterious smile.
He clapped his hands, and the drawing-room floor suddenly split open. A gigantic transparent cage slowly ascended. The cage's surface was inscribed with reversed biblical verses.
And inside the cage, suspended at this very moment, was a… black angel.
"You can ask Him what He did."
Crowley lit a cigar and settled onto the sofa.
"What did He do?"
Ian leaned closer to the angel. He noticed something squirming beneath the thin, black angel's skin.
***
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