American comic book: My Father is Superman, am I just an NPC?

Chapter 138 Plague Angel! Heaven Falls!
The air felt sweet.

But it was so sweet that it reminded people of rotten holy bread.

It depicts the moment when the cage of the reversed Bible slowly rises from the ground.

The once brightly lit reception room suddenly became dim—the light scattered and fled like a flock of startled birds, as if none of the rays were willing to shine on the figure in the cage.

The entire space seemed to be slowly clenched by an invisible hand. Light was no longer a protector, but a traitor—it once symbolized holiness, but now it could only reflect the gradually decaying existence within the cage.

"Did this angel offend you, and then you corrupted him by some means?" Ian stopped probing when his fingertips were still three inches from the transparent cage.

The main reason is that the angels in the cage look like they've contracted some kind of dirty disease.

“It’s not what I did, it’s what he did… You’d better not watch for too long.” Crowley’s voice came from behind, mellow with the taste of whiskey.

“That stuff is contagious; neither angels nor demons are immune.” Crowley puffed out large wads of his cigar, the smoke swirling around him as if helping to shield him from the contamination.

This high demon had a great love for power and was extremely cautious. He had a deep understanding and obsession with magic and mysticism, so he clearly knew how to protect himself from corruption.

“It’s alright, I like having eyes on my body, it’s just that I can’t grow them myself.” Ian didn’t turn around. His gaze was drawn to the angelic form, a form that was extremely decayed and twisted.

I saw.

Within the cage, the angel hovered silently, his eyes closed, his body fixed in mid-air by an invisible force. His skin was as black as mud, and something could be vaguely seen slowly wriggling beneath it.

It was as if countless tiny living creatures were constantly moving within the flesh and blood.

The angel's wings have long since decayed and withered.

The feathers withered and fell off.

Unnatural lumps rose at the joints of the wings, one after another, covered with a green pus that should have smelled terrible, but was unsmelled because of the cage.

not only that.

A thin crack appeared below the angel's collarbone—not a wound, but more like some kind of new organ, opening and closing with each breath, oozing stardust-like fragments of light.

It resembles a mouth that inhales and exhales air.

"This is no longer just a fallen angel, it has become a plague angel." Even with Ian's aesthetic sense, he felt his scalp tingling and didn't even want to stay in the area too close to the black angel.

He took a few steps back.

A bronze chandelier hung from the ceiling, its dim, yellowish light illuminating the transparent cage that imprisoned the angel, casting a morbid glow over the entire space.

The most bizarre thing was the angel's forehead. Where sacred runes should have been inlaid, it was now covered by a thin film-like substance, beneath which countless tiny characters could be faintly seen flowing.

That is not the language of Enoch in the heavens.

It is not the writing system of any known civilization.

The distorted symbols change structure depending on the observer's line of sight. When Ian moved the angle slightly, he saw that they formed the shape of countless eyeballs that were constantly twisting.

this moment.

Ian felt he had figured it out.

He recalled the strange drawing Morpheus, the god of dreams, had made in his notebook when he rescued him, and the fact that he had never been able to find the "notebook" that Morpheus had mentioned.

of course.

There was also the shame of seeing his Miss Death, who had mentioned during her last appearance before him that "the protection of the supreme power would prevent them from detecting the intrusion."

One clue after another connects.

This also made Ian feel like he had found the answer.

“This angel has been corrupted by Cthulhu at an extraterrestrial level.” Ian didn’t know if Crowley knew about extraterrestrial matters, so he turned to look at the Demon King behind him.

Yes.

The name Crowley had already given Ian the information he wanted.

This guy, like his godfather, is a character from "Supernatural," and may also be from another universe, but one that has been accepted and integrated into the DC universe.

Crowley, the Demon King.

He was originally a tailor in Cannesby, Scotland in the 17th century. In order to make his little brother grow taller, bigger and fatter, he sold his soul to the devil. His mother was a witch, so she taught him a lot of magic.

This laid the foundation for him to become the Demon King.

In the American TV series *Supernatural*, Crowley did indeed serve as the King of Hell for a period, although this is largely exaggerated. However, within the Crossroads demon horde, he was certainly a powerful demon king. As the Crossroads demon king, he was obsessed with "contract games," enjoying using meticulously designed terms to harm humans and his fellow demons.

of course.

Unlike most demons, Crowley is not keen on killing or other evil deeds; like his kind, he only likes to make deals.

“This is what I mean by ‘good show’—a spectacular drama is about to unfold in heaven.” Crowley continued to swirl the wine in his glass, leaving viscous marks on the glass's surface from the amber liquid.

“I call this the ‘Revelation Special Edition.’ As long as I’m on Earth, I’ll have the best front-row seats to watch the show.” He revealed his true purpose for coming to Earth.

His tone was full of schadenfreude.

The Demon King showed no confusion about the extraterrestrial invasion Ian mentioned, which suggests that anyone with a modicum of power already knew about it.

"Um, could you not just watch the show, but also consider invading Earth, committing evil deeds, doing whatever you want, causing trouble, and being lawless?"

Ian's golden eyes stared to the side, glancing at the moving oil painting on the wall—a hellish landscape in the painting, which was changing seasons in rhythm with Crowley's tapping fingers.

He still longed for that magnificent manor.

Even if it's currently filled with something dirty.

This did not affect the boy's love for it.

His golden eyes gleamed in the dim light.

“Hmm? I thought we had already skipped this step.” Crowley paused in his action of adding ice to the glass, the ice cubes making a crisp clinking sound in the amber liquid.

"Destroying the world is not something I'm willing to do; I'm not the kind of demon without ambition." He spat the olive pit into the gilded ashtray, and the pit made a crisp "ding" sound.

This guy has a good taste in food and wine.

I rinsed my mouth.

Crowley looked at Ian again.

His tone was serious.

"Actually, there is no script that Lucifer wants to set for me. I have no interest in causing havoc on the world. In my opinion, the world is a wonderful place."

"Not only is there no beauty like in hell, but the human world is also quite dangerous. It's not a place you can just invade whenever you have the chance. Do I look like the kind of stupid and arrogant demon?"

Crowley sighed gracefully.

This gesture made him look more like a human stockbroker than a demon king.

“You can be,” Ian said sincerely.

"But I don't want to be."

Crowley put down his glass, the bottom of which clinked against the coffee table. "The fact that I was able to use Constantine to lure this angel proves that I'm clever enough."

Ian was quite disappointed by his resolute attitude. Ian slumped his shoulders in disappointment, a gesture that made him look like a poor man who had gone all-in on a lottery but won nothing.

Stare at the boy's expression.

Crowley smiled slightly, tapping his fingers lightly on the sofa armrest. "I've investigated you. I know what you want to do. You want to be a superhero on Earth and unite humanity's faith."

"This is a pretty good disguise and choice. If I were to do something, I'd give you the reputation of saving the world." It's unclear what Ian really meant to Crowley.

However, he does have a good understanding of some of Ian's tactics.

however.

In fact, Ian's intention to make him do evil was not so complicated.

“No, I just want this wonderful manor.” Ian blinked, then shook his head honestly, revealing his incredibly simple thoughts without any attempt to hide them.

As soon as these words came out.

Crowley looked visibly stunned.

"?????"

The Demon King's expression froze on his face.

A full three seconds of silence fell over the reception room.

“You want this estate? Fine, then I’ll give it to you as my apology.” Crowley put down his wine glass and made a decisive decision.

He clapped his hands in the air.

A well-dressed demon immediately emerged from the shadows.

“Transfer this estate to this young man’s name, and while you’re at it, change the contracts of the gardeners and other staff so that they also pledge allegiance to this young man.”

Crowley gave instructions to the demon in human skin, and the taciturn demon butler nodded. He glanced at Ian, then turned and disappeared into the shadows again.

at this time.

The bone piano suddenly emitted a series of piercing notes.

"Crowley."

A hoarse voice emanated from beneath the keys, the talking piano expressing its opinion: "How can you, such a coward, manage to govern Hell so well?"

The sound of the bone piano was full of sarcasm.

"hehe."

Crowley glanced at the old grand piano, his tone calm but unyielding: "You're his now, so continuing to fan the flames isn't a wise choice."

In this regard.

The human bone piano let out a cold laugh.

"I have my own principles! I'm not like you!"

The words fell.

It also played a sharp note.

"Can you play the piano by yourself?"

Ian looked at the piano thoughtfully.

"Ah."

Crowley ignored the bone piano and turned to Ian to speak.

"You see, this is the downside of old-fashioned people not knowing how to use the internet. It's different for someone like me who follows trends. I can understand what kind of person you are in ten minutes on the internet."

“This is much more useful than inefficient divination.” As he spoke, he casually fumbled around on the sofa, showing off his tablet computer with a showy air.

Not just the latest model.

It's still the flagship brand of Wayne Enterprises.

"Forehead……"

Ian saw this.

I'm a bit conflicted.

He had never encountered such a formidable demon in his entire life. This guy was far, far more terrifying than those demons who clamored to slaughter heaven and earth and kill his parents.

"If you keep sending me things like this, you'll become my Uncle Crowley."

Ian didn't want to sigh, but the demon's methods were truly vicious. He was indeed worthy of being called the Demon King. It was normal for a fourteen-year-old boy like himself to be unable to deal with such a being.

“I very much hope that we can maintain this friendly relationship.” Crowley smiled like a businessman who had just closed a big deal; that’s the kind of air the devil at the crossroads had.

The Crossroads Demons are a special group of demons, and can indeed be seen as merchants of Hell. They are characterized by red eyes, often appearing in the guise of beautiful women, and can grant any human wish, but at an exorbitant price. The transaction period is generally ten years, after which hellhounds drag the trader's soul to Hell.

to be frank.

It was only because Crowley didn't pull out the contract that Ian would have signed it instantly; he'd been searching for the entrance to Hell for ages. Not only the magic circle, but Ian also remembered promising his father he'd build a prison in Hell.

Ian's memory of his previous conversation with his father was "already" hazy, but he remembered that he had definitely promised this, and he absolutely could not take his father's promise to heart.

"You're making me feel embarrassed."

Ian sighed.

I'm also very confused.

He killed the other man's son.

Surely that son couldn't also be part of an invasion mission orchestrated by "the higher-ups," could he?
How ridiculous!

This grudge must be deeply buried in the other party's heart, and they must be waiting for an opportunity to take revenge! The Demon King Crowley seemed oblivious to Ian's expectations and speculations.

“Actually, there are only two possibilities: worth it or not. If it’s worth it, no one understands human nature better than the devil.” Crowley seemed quite frank.

Ian raised an eyebrow at the sight.

This gesture made him look at least three seconds older than his actual age.

“I have a book and a trash can, they might be with you.” If the delinquent girl gets caught, Ian feels his assets will definitely be in Crowley’s hands.

This guess doesn't seem to be wrong.

"Mr. Abyss Barrel, I remember this boastful demon. He impressed me not only with his twisted mind, but also with his incredibly clumsy undercover skills."

Crowley nodded and said with a sigh, "However, that demon is very loyal to you, and he has fooled many of my subordinates by waving the banner of the Triple Demon."

He was clearly aware of the demonic minotaur's actions all along.

All of the previous claims were misunderstandings.

It's likely that this misunderstanding arose after something happened that Ian was unaware of.

“As for that book…” Crowley hesitated for a moment, then took out a remote control. With the second button pressed, a gold-plated birdcage slowly descended from the ceiling.

I saw.

In the cage.

"Ian's Book of Wrath" is slamming wildly against the railing.

The pages flapped like the wings of an angry bird.

"It seems to be very loyal to you as well."

Crowley watched with great interest as Ian pried open the birdcage with his bare hands. He watched as Ian, who had instantly calmed down and transformed back into "Ian's Beloved Magic Book," stuffed the demon book under his belly.

Once Ian got his hands on the book, it became as quiet as a satisfied cat.

"That's my personal charm," Ian said without batting an eye. He used another truthful statement today, which was indeed a little too extravagant.

Crowley swirled his glass noncommittally.

“I’ve had it for many years. This book is very special, but its power is only so-so.” He paused for a moment, as if carefully choosing his words.

"Weak ribs."

Crowley ultimately summarized it with a single word.

"That's because you didn't use it in the right place."

Ian then pulled out the magic book that was placed on his stomach.

"All the magic of my Great Ian faction is created using this." He casually flipped to a page, and complex runes immediately appeared on the page. This book was truly effective for creating magic.

It doesn't even require Ian to have any magical knowledge; all Ian needs to do is clearly express what kind of magical effect he wants, and it can create a spell with a sufficiently perfect framework for him.

This is absolutely a magical artifact.

It's like something that doesn't require the owner to understand coding; all the owner needs to do is tell them what game or app they want, and the app can be made automatically.

Who wouldn't love such a treasure?

Perhaps a devil like Crowley wouldn't like that.

"Using it to create things that don't exist is not a worthwhile trade; the consumption of magic power is enormous," Crowley commented sharply, his small eyes narrowing into slits.

He has a fairly good understanding of magic.

Crowley possesses powerful magical abilities and demonic powers, capable of manipulating dark forces, casting curses and prophecies, and is also proficient in many mysterious rituals and spells.

"Magic is like money; if you're short, you can always find a way to earn it." Ian didn't care about that. He already had the God King as a double agent, so how far was the whole of Asgard?

Hear the words.

Crowley gave Ian a deep look.

He paused for a few seconds, a hint of inquiry in his eyes, then slowly put down his wine glass, revealing a serious expression. "I once consulted Lucifer about this book."

“He told me that this book was ‘something that fell from the wall.’ My dear friend, can you tell me what kind of wall it was?” Crowley’s intuition as a devilish merchant told him.

The boy in front of him should perhaps know the answer to the question that Lucifer was too impatient to answer—in Crowley's opinion, the boy in front of him might also be some kind of creature that had fallen from the "wall".

"Ok?"

Ian paused for a moment.

He looked around at the magnificent manor he had just acquired, his gaze sweeping over the gilded wall lamps and the carved stair railings before finally settling on Crowley's shiny, round face.

After weighing the options...

Out of consideration for the estate, Ian chose to remain as the generous Ian.

"It is a wall that surrounds the entire multiverse, which can be seen as the edge barrier of the multiverse - there are many, many strange and indescribable things on it."

said.

However, it wasn't fully explained.

This kind of thing wasn't much useful knowledge for Crowley and most of the people in the "story".

“So that’s how it is…” Crowley’s shiny forehead suddenly broke out in fine beads of sweat as he mechanically chewed the olive, the pit crunching between his teeth.

He muttered to himself.

The pupils in the eyes are dilating.

"You used Constantine to fish out this angel?" Ian wanted to change the subject, so he walked back to the transparent cage and stared at the mutated angel in front of him.

His fingertips lightly touched the surface of the cage, and tiny runes immediately lit up at the point of contact. Clearly, these runes were isolating any contact between the inside and the outside.

Hear the words.

Crowley jerked as if waking from a dream, the olive oil stains on his tie glistening with the movement.

“Ah, that’s right.” He pulled out a crumpled handkerchief to wipe his sweat. “It’s not easy to capture an angel alive, even a sick angel is hard for us demons to catch.”

“But things are different with Constantine. Actually, I didn’t realize at first that there was something wrong with the angels who were with Constantine. It was Constantine who realized that something was wrong with the angels and wanted to make a deal with me.” Crowley explained how he discovered the angels’ mutation. He had clearly tricked Constantine, who was trying to trick him.

The demon at the crossroads is not as easily fooled as other demons.

“Then this angel must be the Black Angel Manny.” Ian confirmed the angel’s identity through Crowley’s information; this angel played a significant role in Constantine’s story.

The angel Manny initially appeared as a supporter.

His task appears to be to protect and guide Constantine.

however.

Actually.

Angel Manny had already committed two of the seven deadly sins, which meant he was no longer a pure and innocent angel. Such behavior was certainly a big problem for a celestial being.

It was later proven that this angel was the leader of the evil organization, the Witch Cult. So, just like his skin color, Angel Manny may have already become a hidden fallen angel at some point.

It is only because of his self-perception that he still believes he is doing the right thing that he still possesses divine power and does not exhibit the typical characteristics of a fallen angel.

Angels are such an "idealistic" species.

of course.

Even becoming a fallen angel would be far better than becoming the Plague Angel he is now—Ian felt he had found Twitch, the source of plague for the DC Universe.

"If this pollution can cause Heaven to fall, aren't you demons worried?" Ian leaned closer to examine the black threads running beneath the angel's skin.

"Aren't you afraid that the pollution on Manny will spread in Heaven, and then be transmitted to the human world by the angels, and eventually seep into Hell?"

Perhaps because it heard its own name, the angel in the cage suddenly twitched slightly, its eyelids twitching constantly, but under the influence of some kind of sealing power, it failed to awaken.

"Fear? Of course I'm afraid, but what's the use of being afraid? Fear will only cloud my judgment. Instead of being afraid, I should think about what changes it might bring to the world's structure."

“The angels will surely suffer.”

“This will become a dark chapter in the angels’ history. However, we in Hell will not get involved, because I know one thing very well—someone will always handle the angels’ problems.” “Lucifer just laughed it off, so we don’t need to panic.” Crowley finally regained his composure, grinning to reveal his nicotine-stained teeth.

The smoke from the cigar formed a small vortex above his head.

"Since Lucifer isn't worried, I won't be either."

Ian was somewhat taken aback upon hearing this, and it confirmed once again that Miss Death might not have found the notebook, because the notebook was hidden in the core area of ​​Heaven.

“These contaminants are like maggots clinging to your bones; once you’re hooked, you can’t shake them off. But there are many ways to avoid getting them, at least there are many demons—let me correct what I said earlier: Heaven itself will be fine, but the angels living there might not be. That’s the downside of liking to share organs.” Crowley once again gloated, quoting the same adjective Lucifer had used before.

He tapped his cigar lightly, sending sparks flying. Then, the Demon King began to explain to Ian the "Great Library" shared by the angels.

"Do you know where the angels' power comes from?" Crowley didn't wait for Ian's answer and answered himself directly, "The angels' power comes from Heaven."

"This is why angels become much weaker after falling from heaven and losing their connection with heaven. The power of angels actually belongs to the common power of heaven."

“Every angel can use it, just like their ‘Great Library,’ and every angel can connect to it to gain a state of omniscience and omnipotence.”

"Yes, that's right. The true source of the angels' power is Heaven. The right they possess is to share, which means that if an angel brings something that does not belong to Heaven to Heaven, it will be considered a violation."

"This thing only needs to pollute Heaven's database to spread to every angel—since the influence originates from Heaven, the angels have no right to refuse."

Crowley's joy was genuine, and his schadenfreude was palpable. Ian had heard about this from Lucifer, but Crowley's description was now more detailed.

"Manny put that source of pollution into the 'Great Library' of Heaven?!" Upon hearing this, Ian finally understood and stared at the black angel in the cage with astonishment.

He really couldn't imagine how an angel could cause such a disaster, just as he couldn't imagine why top-secret group chat messages from the White House would appear on social media.

"God shouldn't have created black angels. Look, wherever there are black angels, there's bound to be trouble. That's the real black humor," Crow said in a succinct summary.

In the era he lived in, people generally looked down on those with dark skin.

"Is this the consequence of browsing other people's shared knowledge without protecting your own brain?" Ian wasn't being racist; he was simply marveling at how good it was that he didn't like letting others use his things. Perhaps, the invasive species that was placed in paradise actually realized it had found paradise.

It has casually polluted the advanced species in this universe.

“Yes, yes, yes! Not using a condom makes it easy to get diseases, the angels can testify.” Crowley seemed to really like Ian’s description, he clapped his hands and laughed heartily.

“Just wait and see, next Heaven will fall from the sky like those nuns who got gonorrhea.” Crowley’s tone was full of anticipation.

Cigar ash fell in a flurry onto his striped suit.

In this regard.

Ian didn't mind.

As long as it doesn't fall onto its own floor, it's fine.

“Could real monsters be conceived within the angels?” Ian stared at the newly appeared tumor on Manny’s right wing—miniature human faces could be vaguely seen moving within those translucent lumps.

Observe while you do it.

Ian was blindly typing on the half-finished phone. He knew he should notify the Justice League, specifically Batman and Clark Kent.

"Who knows."

Crowley's indifferent reply.

He once again revealed his demonic side, showing little concern as a creature of hell about whether the human world would be further contaminated by the fallen angels.

of course.

He doesn't care, but others do.

"Crackling~ Crackling~"

The boy tapped and typed on the screen.

[Recipient: Dad]

[CC: Batman]

[This is Sir Ian, the leader of the New Justice League. I'm issuing an urgent notice that you need to be aware of a potential public health crisis in Heaven.]

According to reliable intelligence (sources: a fallen angel shedding feathers + a wealthy Hell executive), an angelic plague has apparently broken out in Heaven due to a group sex incident.

My initial assessment is that it's because the angels, unlike me, don't like wearing head covers. This will cost them dearly; they will most likely fall down like pigeons that have contracted bird flu!

Hopefully, Batman will take adequate precautions.

I also hope that Daddy can keep a close eye on Batman and prevent him from thinking about blowing up Heaven first, or that he can solve the problem by spraying disinfectant all over Heaven.

P.S.: I got a meal today! The newest manor I got is really nice. No offense intended, just wanted to show off.

……

Ian himself certainly couldn't think of any effective way to prevent Earth from being contaminated by fallen angels, but he still believed in Batman as always.

Batman always manages to come up with a solution.

"Crackling~ Crackling~"

The typing on the half-used phone continued.

See this scene.

Crowley did not stop him.

He leaned forward slightly, looking a little uneasy. "You didn't mention who I was or where I was when you texted me, did you?"

Regarding Ian's text message.

Crowley is hard to peek at.

He only saw a few scattered things.

Ian continued fiddling with his phone without looking up: "No."

"call--"

Crowley relaxed and leaned back on the sofa.

The genuine leather made a farting sound.

"That's good. I don't want to be targeted by Batman; that guy's reputation in Hell is much greater than Superman's." He took out a crumpled handkerchief and wiped his sweat a little more.

It's unclear why this is the physical body he uses.

Or perhaps she simply enjoys wiping away sweat.

"What do you mean? Superman is inferior to Batman?"

Ian looked up in displeasure.

His golden eyes held a deep melancholy.

“I mean, Superman will definitely go to Heaven, so what connection could he possibly have with Hell? But Batman is a different story.” Klaue made a downward gesture with an exaggerated movement.

"Everyone's betting on how many years it will take Batman to become the Lord of Hell after he goes there." His words were packed with information and also highlighted the demons' lack of entertainment.

“I see. That makes sense. According to relativity, if Dad goes to Heaven, Batman must go to Hell.” Ian instantly understood what the other person meant.

He thought that Crowley might actually be right.

It wasn't that he thought his Uncle Bruce was a bad person.

The main reason is that, compared to Crowley, Ian also knows some information from higher dimensions—in this world, going to heaven or hell is not just about merit.

The destination of Heaven and Hell.

Ultimately, it depends on your own self-assessment.

Just as God grants angels self-affirmation, God also grants humanity the right to choose. Therefore, it's understandable that Batman, who always knew he was the Dark Knight, would find it very difficult to go to Heaven.

He knew he was using evil to fight evil.

Of course, Heaven might open a back door for Batman, preventing him from wreaking havoc in Hell, but that's only if Heaven can remain pure.

“If the angels are corrupted, Heaven will surely be affected too, right?” Ian looked at Crowley, trying to get some more information from the Demon King.

In this regard.

Crowley was happy to respond.

“No one can influence Heaven except God himself.” He didn’t even mention Lucifer, and his resolute posture made Ian take a few more glances at him.

Ian certainly didn't agree with this response.

However, he did not refute it.

That's actually normal. After all, Crowley is just an acquired demon, and there's a slight difference between him and an innate demon. His understanding might not be as good as Ian's on some levels.

“No matter what, this is definitely a big deal.” Ian wanted to pray to Miss Death, but just then, a shrill ring broke the atmosphere in the living room.

It's Crowley's phone.

The ringtone was surprisingly Wayne Enterprises' classic telephone ringtone.

The kind with copyright.

This must be another Wayne Enterprises technology product. He watched as Crowley frantically pulled a custom-made phone, studded with diamonds and gold trim, from the rumpled inside pocket of his suit.

The word "Boss" was clearly displayed on the screen. Ian was somewhat surprised, not by the caller, but by his inability to understand Crowley's situation.

On the one hand, they were wary of Batman.

They're using Wayne Technologies products.

They're all Wayne Technologies.

Does this demon really think he doesn't have enough surveillance cameras on him?

“My boss called, I need to go report to him.” Crowley straightened his suit and gave Ian an apologetic look.

"Lucifer?"

Ian asked curiously.

Crowley smiled and nodded, exuding affability, as he walked out of the living room. Ian watched his retreating figure, then glanced at the other technological products in the room.

Wayne Technology's intelligent temperature control system and Wayne Security's monitoring probes.

Ok.

The audio equipment is also from the Wayne Group.

"As expected, Wayne fans are die-hard."

Ian sighed sincerely, unsure whether this was Crowley's pre-emptive effort to build a relationship with Bruce Wayne, the Lord of Hell, or a deliberate attempt to expose himself to Batman's surveillance.

"Not a provocation, but to avoid trouble?" Ian felt that the demon who could give him his manor must have such wisdom. As he pondered this, he approached the crystal cage again.

The bone piano remained silent, mocking Ian for being left alone there.

An eerie stillness filled the air.

The boy's fingertips tapped lightly on the semi-liquid barrier, producing a soft "thump, thump" sound, like some kind of disturbance, constantly echoing in the dim room.

The angel Manny in the cage trembled slightly.

The peristalsis under the skin became increasingly intense.

It felt as if countless tiny insects were crawling through his veins. He remained unconscious, but his body was trembling violently, and Ian didn't know why.

Even if he stops tapping.

The other person's trembling did not stop.

What kind of dream was that?

Ian stared at the angel Manny's hands, which were moving up and down.

Don't dare to think too much.

While he was observing the Plague Angel's condition, on the other side, in the smallest of the fifteen toilets in the manor, in a room of a full 100 square meters, Crowley was bowing and scraping to his phone.

“Yes, Hell is functioning well, riots have decreased by 37%, it's very, very stable.” His eyes suddenly lit up. “Really? Boss! Thank you so much!”

Crowley spoke with great excitement.

The sound of dancing came from the other end of the phone.

You deserve to be stronger.

Crowley's fat body suddenly trembled.

An invisible force surged from the phone's receiver, flowing into his body through his ear canal. As Lucifer's words became law, Crowley's aura and power increased wildly.

The demon agent's suit billowed without wind, and his tie writhed as if alive. He closed his eyes, feeling the new power surging within him—a power bestowed upon him by Lucifer himself.

"awesome."

When Crowley opened his eyes again.

Lucifer had already hung up the phone.

He saw a short-haired woman standing behind him in the mirror.

Meg Mosley.

Crowley's smile remained unchanged as he stared at the voice in the mirror and said in a light tone, "I remember you've already completed the commission."

This female demon is the one who brought Ian here.

Who is that boy?

The female demon's red lips were pressed into a straight line.

She still couldn't forget the terrifying sense of oppression Ian had instilled in her.

“I don’t know.” Crowley turned on the gold-plated faucet, and the water flowed over his body, which had just gained power. His hands were still trembling slightly from excitement.

What has been improved is his essence.

It's not this body.

Meg slammed her hand on the mirror, cracks spreading from her palm: "You lied! You gave him the manor!"

The sound of water stopped abruptly.

Crowley slowly pulled out a towel embroidered with the emblem of hell.

"It seems I have a spy among my men."

His hand-wiping motion was as elegant as if he were polishing an antique.

“As expected, my decision was correct; they all have to be killed.” Crowley wasn’t angry because the manor was no longer his, and he knew very well who the female demon needed to compensate for her actions.

A superhero with psoriasis-level skin conditions.

This is the downside of not using internet search.

"I have the right to know the answer!"

Meg's scream caused a crack in the ceramic sink.

"I really do not know."

Crowley sighed.

"I only did a fortune telling for that boy."

He gave an answer.

The female demon's eyes turned completely black.

"What do you see?"

The female demon stared intently at Crowley.

"The result of the divination?"

Crowley threw the used towel into the trash can.

Chewing sounds immediately came from inside the bucket.

“I didn’t see anything.” He walked toward the door, glancing back at the female demon. “My tarot cards all turned into demon cards when I was doing a reading.”

His tone was apprehensive.

Meg frowned in confusion.

"Is there some force interfering with your divination?!"

She didn't quite believe that claim.

The main reason was that she knew the demon in front of her had a proxy.

"No, no, no, if only it were that simple."

Crowley's hand rested on the doorknob.

"In fact, this is a warning."

talking.

The chubby demon was about to leave.

"Wait a moment!"

The female demon suddenly grabbed his arm. The next second, she was thrown against the wall like a rag doll, an invisible force pressing her firmly against the wallpaper covered with evil spirits bearing the faces of suffering.

"you forgot?"

Crowley's voice suddenly turned unusually cold.

"A regent king is still a king."

His eyes were bloodshot, and his tone was menacing. Meg gurgled, and wisps of smoke began to rise from her skin: "You know perfectly well... there's something hidden beneath this manor."

Just as the female demon was about to say something...

Boom!

The entire manor suddenly shook violently.

The angel's shriek pierced the air like shards of glass scraping against eardrums. The demon Meg struggled to slide down the wall, her skin still smoldering from the intense heat of the attack.

"what happened?!"

She asked in a hoarse voice.

Blood-red fingernails dug into the marble floor.

Crowley did not answer.

"The fun is about to begin."

His obese body pressed against the stained-glass window, his eyes wide and filled with excitement. Outside, the sky was undergoing a terrible distortion—the once azure sky was torn open with a jagged rift, through which golden clouds and scarlet shadows tumbled and intertwined, like the blood vessels of a god being ripped open.

It also seems to imply...

Things that truly exist "in the heavens".

They were about to fall into the mortal realm.

"Stop yelling! Stop!"

at the same time.

In the reception room.

Seeing the angel Manny screaming and howling, Ian patted the transparent cage hard, but his attempt to stop her went unanswered.

"Ahhhhh~"

He was still screaming.

The mouth opened wider and wider.

The tones rose and fell, the sound like the stretched, torn and reassembled voices of hundreds of choir children—a sacred melody mixed with the sticky sounds of flesh writhing.

Outside the window.

A blurry doorway appeared and disappeared, its edges gleaming with an ominous golden light, like a burning wound, slowly opening. The tone of the voice emanating from the Black Angel Manny became even sharper.

He seemed to be chanting some kind of hymn that had become distorted.

(End of this chapter)