Having traversed countless realms, can you possibly be as clever as me?

"Another trial for humanity has begun." Tsurue looked at the swirling vortex of cola in her glass, staring into Midnight's eyes, and said with a half-smile.

"Just like the trials of Gomorrah and Sodom, another trial is about to begin."

The midnight silence followed. Even for him, what Tsurugi had said seemed too distant and fantastical—Gomorrah and Sodom, how far removed were these things?

"So? The main purpose is to send angels down to find the righteous?" Midnight asked, spreading his hands.

"I don't know about other places, but I should be able to find about ten here in London."

"This trial has nothing to do with heaven or hell," Tsugumi said slowly.

"It's a problem for humanity itself—nuclear war is about to break out."

In an instant, the office fell into a deathly silence.

At midnight, he slowly stood up from behind his desk, his tall, dark figure stretched long under the office lights.

"What do you mean?" He stared intently at Tsurugi.

"Someone, to be precise, someone of unknown origin, who belonged neither to heaven nor hell, instigated the outbreak of nuclear war."

Dongjiang spouted nonsense without batting an eye.

"Just yesterday, he attacked the White House and the Kremlin, killing many high-ranking officials of human governments. They were supposed to hold talks tomorrow to end the standoff in Cuba."

"The history of the world should have turned at this point, leading to the continuation of the Cold War, but now, things are different."

"...I thought fate couldn't be rewritten." Midnight paused for a moment, then said softly.

"But who can truly see the face of fate?" Tsurugi laughed.

"Lord, Lucifer, or perhaps the head of the Infinite Family? No one can know the true path of destiny, and anyone who tries to interfere with prophecy will end up like Oedipus.

"...but it can still be changed."

Midnight paused for a moment, staring intently at Tsurugi, her eyes gleaming.

Since Tsurugi came to him, it means there is still a chance for things to turn around. Nuclear war and the self-destruction of mankind are not necessarily an absolutely irreversible outcome.

Clearly, Midnight also doesn't want to see the human world headed for destruction.

Even if a nuclear war breaks out, Midnight could still survive with his abilities, but who would want to live underground as a groundhog if they could?

"Of course, but I need a qualified and reliable assistant," Tsugumi straightened her collar and smiled.

“I’ve heard that the famous John Constantine would be a very suitable partner.”

Qualified? Reliable? Constantine?

Midnight's lips twitched slightly.

Well, Constantine's abilities are indeed genuinely strong. Over the past ten years, he has defeated so many demons that they could fill an amusement park, and he has saved countless people.

But he also caused the deaths of a lot of people!

This isn't even a simple matter of ideas and abilities; it's more accurate to say that Constantine has a touch of evil about him.

In Eastern parlance, he's a jinx; even if he doesn't have the personality to sabotage you, he'll still end up sabotaging his teammates for various reasons.

It's not that I want to harm you, it's your fate that's ruining you!

Midnight wanted to offer some words of advice, but seeing that Dongjiang's mind was made up, she didn't say anything more.

Soon, Tsugumi left the midnight bar and ran into Constantine, who was smoking, at the entrance.

"So, you want me to help you find this person who's planning to destroy the world?"

Constantine, with a cigarette dangling from his lips, glanced sideways at Tsurugi, while his assistant Chase looked at Tsurugi with curiosity.

"Is it not allowed?"

“We need to talk about compensation,” Constantine said slowly, exhaling a puff of smoke.

"No money, no honey, that's the rule."

"It doesn't seem like you're short of money, or perhaps money isn't of much use to you," Tsurugi said, looking at Constantine with amusement.

"How about this, I can pay you in advance a fee; it's a method, an idea."

Constantine squinted at Tsurugi, intending to instinctively mock her, but Tsurugi's next words shut him up.

"This method may not get you to heaven, but it will definitely keep you from going to hell and allow you to continue living on earth."

Constantine removed the silk cigarette from his mouth, his pale face turned to Tsurugi, and he said softly.

"...Then pay me in advance now."

Tsurugi smiled and whispered a few words in Constantine's ear.

He was stunned for a moment, then his expression changed drastically. He took a step back and cursed at Dongjiang.

"You're insane! Fuck! How could you even think of such an idea! Are you some kind of saint blessed by heaven?!"

The method that Tsurugi offered him could be described as blasphemous and audacious, even overly abstract.

Moreover, Constantine can guarantee with absolute certainty that after doing this, his soul will likely have to save the world in order to go to heaven.

Tsugumi didn't speak, only smiling at Constantine, while the Hell's Detective, after a series of changes in expression, gritted his teeth and said...

"...Okay, sure! But I might not be able to get enough supplies!"

"It's alright," Tsugumi said slowly.

“I can contact Asmodeus for you; he must be quite influential. Maybe he can even bring Mammon along.”

Having transmigrated, the only option is to kill, kill, kill! : 76. Constantine's Ritual

The method that Tsugumi taught Constantine was actually the same method he used in the comics to escape death.

Since my soul will inevitably be taken by a demon king after I die, I might as well sell a few more.

Because of the contract, his soul will inevitably be taken by some demon after his death. However, if there are multiple parties involved in the deal, they must wage war over Constantine's ownership!

However, he himself couldn't guarantee whether this method would work.

After all, in the comics he offended the First Fallen, while in the movie version it seems that Lucifer came to take his soul—if this follows the DC setting, unless Constantine is willing to sell himself to God, no one can save him.

But for Constantine now, this is the only way he can find.

The biggest problem with this approach is that demons aren't stupid. Under normal circumstances, a soul that has been traded out will be branded with a very obvious scent.

Demon lords can easily smell the scent of this mark, let alone demon kings, and clearly, this version of Constantine does not have the ability to deceive demon kings.

After all, Keanu Reeves' version is more handsome and has a higher moral standard than the original Conan, but he's also become much less appealing.

But with Tsurugi in charge, things are different.

His Paladin class's Forced Repentance skill can be used to remove this mark.

By confessing one's sins, one can erase the mark of making a deal with the devil through extreme pain. This method is very painful and difficult, but it is indeed feasible.

After confirming that the method was feasible, Constantine seemed to have improved his overall health.

Although what we're doing is still like dancing on a knife's edge, it's at least much more reliable than before when we were begging and pleading everywhere for a way to get to heaven.

"I've already paid my share; it's your turn now."

Tsugumi looked at Constantine and said softly

“John Constantine, I need you to help me find out who attacked the leaders of the two great powers, pushing the world to the brink of destruction.”

“Okay, no problem.” Constantine agreed very readily at this moment.

After all, he also believed that if he could handle such a big matter, he might be able to go to heaven.

After saying that, he quickly returned to his dilapidated apartment with his assistant and Tsurugi, and then began to get busy.

Tsugumi watched with great interest, also hoping to learn. She just wondered if this magical ritual would be like the one on the moon, failing to work outside of its local area.

Hmm, it seems more reliable than Type-Moon, after all, Warner Bros.' market value is still higher than Type-Moon's!

He took a deep drag on his nearly burnt-out cigarette, letting the ash fall into the protective circle drawn with salt. On the ground, intricate geometric patterns intersected with inverted pentagrams, each intersection marked by a black candle. The air was thick with the smells of rust, mildew, and cheap tobacco, but the strongest scent came from the open bottle of liquid.

It was a ritual medium made from cemetery soil, wormwood, and sulfur, paired with a scarab beetle in the corner. According to Constantine, it was a magic spell for finding targets that combined the element of 'revelation' from ancient Egyptian rituals.

“Alright, you bastard.” Constantine rubbed his hands together, his voice hoarse. “Let’s see where you’re hiding.”

He pulled a small cloth bag from the pocket of his faded trench coat and poured out a few items: a strand of hair tied with a rubber band, a piece of cloth stained with dried blood, and a photograph of the victim—a photograph he had even cut out of a newspaper, a picture of Melancholy and his wife.

"Is this really reliable? Is it okay to just use what's in the newspaper?" Tsugumi was starting to lose her composure.

“Once a specific appearance is determined, the spirit world will pinpoint specific information for us,” Constantine explained, glancing at him sideways.

"Of course, it would be best to use clearer and more targeted photos and personal items, but we don't have the means."

"Speaking of which, isn't there a place for someone like you next to these leaders of major powers?" Tsuruge said, stroking her chin.

"Some kind of occult consultant?"

“They can’t go,” Constantine sneered.

"Angels and demons forbid special groups from getting close to these rulers of the human world because they are all afraid of causing too much influence on each other and disrupting their pull on earth. The current situation can be described as a serious dereliction of duty by the angels who are supposed to be protecting them."

At this point, Constantine smiled gloatingly.

"That arrogant bastard Gabriel deserves his punishment!"

Constantine placed the items in the center of the pattern, struck a match, and lit seven candles in succession. The flames did not leap upwards; instead, they curved inwards, as if drawn by an unseen force. He then took out a dagger with a raven skull inlaid on the hilt and runes engraved on the blade.

“With the restless anger of the dead as a guide,” he said, slicing his left palm with the tip of a knife, blood dripping onto his hair and rags, “with the final cries of the innocent as a path.”

The moment the blood touched the object, the candle flame leaped up, turning an eerie, ghostly green. The room temperature plummeted, and breath condensed into white mist. Constantine lit a new cigarette, took a deep drag, and the smoke swirled before him, gradually forming a blurry human face.

“I know you’re listening,” he whispered into the smoke, “that bastard who took a dozen lives. Tell me, where is he?”

The smoke-filled face twisted and distorted, emitting a silent scream. Constantine frowned, pulled a silver flask from his pocket, and took a large gulp. The liquid burned his throat, but the gradual intoxication made his spiritual vision clearer.

He seemed to see a certain scene.

In the White House, in the Kremlin, on the ringing telephones, in—

Suddenly, all the candles went out at the same time, leaving only one still burning, its flame flickering wildly. The shadows outside the salt circle began to writhe, spreading inwards like living creatures.

Constantine cursed, quickly grabbing a handful of powder mixed with silver dust and sage and scattering it around, yelling at the restless spirits nearby.

"Get out of here, this is none of your business!"