Venerable readers, this Heavenly One has returned from closed seclusion to once again feed the masses. I am back, and I have truly missed you all.
"Wait! Please wait, Slayer! He still has Astra!"
John Constantine's voice carried across the ruined manor, cutting through the lingering silence left in the wake of the battle. Chunks of fractured stone lay scattered across the floor, while splintered beams leaned precariously against crumbling walls. Wisps of dust drifted lazily through shafts of pale light filtering in from the shattered ceiling, giving the once-grand estate the appearance of an abandoned ruin rather than a nobleman's home.
The Slayer paused before the still-active portal, turning just enough to acknowledge the London magician, his attire complete with a full-on black outfit like he was about to attend a funeral in hell.
A tight-fitting corporate shirt that carved out his well-defined pecs and abdominal muscles, his shoulders making an arc as if they were protective pauldrons, his arms filled the shirt till bursting, his forearms girthy and defined for grappling, his trousers
"Do this for me," John continued, taking a measured step forward. The familiar confidence in his voice was still there, but beneath it lay something far rarer—earnest desperation.
"I'll owe you a debt."
Without waiting for a response, he placed his hand against the centre of his chest and began tracing an intricate symbol over his heart. Ancient runes shimmered beneath his fingertips before spreading across his skin in faint silver lines. The surrounding air grew noticeably heavier as the spell took shape, carrying with it a quiet pressure that caused even Angela to instinctively tense and move away from him a bit.
She recognised powerful magic when she saw it.
This was not a simple binding spell.
The completed sigil slowly separated from John's chest, suspended in the air between him and the Slayer. It glowed with a gentle, almost ethereal radiance, yet its presence carried an unmistakable weight. This was more than magic—it was a tangible fragment of John's soul, offered freely as the foundation of an oath.
The Slayer studied the floating symbol in silence.
Fred understood immediately what Constantine had placed before him. He had 'studied' magic and divine arts in hell under the best and brightest disciples the Mage King, one of the twelve kings of hell had to offer and even absorbed some of the Mage King's true essence soul, so there was little that he wouldn't decipher immediately.
If John attempted to deceive him or violate the agreement in any meaningful way, ownership of his soul would pass entirely to the Slayer. There were no hidden clauses woven into the magic and no opportunity to escape its judgment once accepted.
Still, it was a dangerous promise, given who was making that promise.
Not because John had never wagered his soul before—he had built a reputation on impossible bargains—but because this time the oath carried none of the careful ambiguity that usually accompanied his deals.
This time...
The being before John Constantine was an entity that could read him completely and could tell John was sincere.
Fred reached out and closed his hand around the glowing sigil. The light dissolved into his palm before disappearing completely.
He gave a small nod. The bargain had been accepted.
"Wait, wait, wait, wait, what about me?" Angela's voice broke the silence.
She folded her arms and pouted her lips as she looked from the Slayer to the portal.
"If you're leaving, that's your decision," she said, frustration creeping into her tone. She wanted the man in black to engage her a bit more. "But my city is still crawling with demons, and the one person capable of tearing through them like they're nothing is about to disappear."
"Ask John." The Slayer's answer came without hesitation.
His attention had already shifted elsewhere.
Nergal.
The demon lord met his gaze in uneasy silence, the smug confidence he had carried only minutes earlier having all but vanished.
Before he could speak, the Slayer seized him by the throat and lifted him from the ground with effortless ease. Nergal struggled instinctively, more out of pride than any belief he could break free.
He never had the chance.
With a single motion, the Slayer hurled him through the portal.
The demon disappeared into the swirling crimson gateway, his furious cry swallowed by the dimensional rift before it faded into nothingness.
The Slayer followed at a measured pace.
As he reached the threshold, he spoke without looking back.
"Now then, Nergal..."
His voice remained as calm as ever.
"...lead the way."
The portal folded inward behind him, its crimson light shrinking to a single point before vanishing completely.
John remained where he stood, staring at the empty space the portal had occupied only moments before.
"I can't believe that actually worked." A long breath escaped him as he shuffled through his coat for his pack of smokes; he would need them now.
Angela glanced sideways at him.
"You call that a plan?"
John allowed himself a faint smile, lit the cig that rested on his pale lips. Spark, flame and smoke. Only after that familiar aftertaste of nicotine with a special blend of herbs this pack offered hit his throat, and smoke came out with a sigh did he continue.
"It was a gamble, love."
"You offered your soul."
"I've done worse. If I could do more, bloody hell I would!" He bit into his cig a little too hard.
'Even time magic isn't all that invincible, I would only be creating another timeline, it still won't be 'her'.' John thought as he eased off on biting his recreational smoke. With his hands in his pockets, he began to leave.
Angela shook her head.
"One day you'll run out of luck."
John's smile lingered for another moment before his expression grew thoughtful.
"Maybe."
His gaze remained fixed on the place where the portal had vanished.
"But if it brings Astra home... I guess, even a soul as shitty as mine may…"
He left the sentence unfinished.
For the first time in years, hope felt like something more than wishful thinking. His belief in the Slayer was born that day. And unknowingly, John had offered up a prayer to the Deity born in hell.
Two Months Later
In the span of two months, the world had been forced to redefine what it believed possible.
The appearance of Superman had shattered humanity's understanding of its place as the apex in the universe. Batman had become Gotham City's silent guardian, a figure as feared by criminals as he was admired by ordinary citizens; even an unheard butler dubbed Alfred "double-tap" Pennyworth were doing their hardest to keep the streets of Gotham free of crime and paranormal activity that had been on the rise.
Wonder Woman, with her impossible strength and unwavering sense of justice, had inspired countless stories, while heroes such as The Flash, Green Lantern, Hawkgirl and Martian Manhunter gradually stepped out from the realm of speculation and into reality. With the increased demonic threats in different parts of the world, the heroes barely had time to band together to form a collective union to handle the threats better.
Priests and other spiritual leaders who could exorcise demons were working full time with the authorities; the need for mages had risen so much that those in hiding just had to come out and offer their services for their survival and the earth's. There was no such thing as an unemployed mage in this era after all.
Yet for all their growing fame, the world's heroes remained strangely elusive. News cameras occasionally captured grainy footage of a blurry speeding Superman catching a collapsing bridge or Wonder Woman driving back an army of monsters, but interviews were almost unheard of. There were no carefully managed press conferences or public appearances.
They simply did their work and moved on to the next crisis.
There was little time for anything else.
What had begun as isolated incidents quickly became a global phenomenon.
Reports of demonic activity arrived daily from every corner of the world. Entire neighbourhoods found themselves plagued by creatures that lurked beneath children's beds, hid inside forgotten attics or whispered through the walls of abandoned buildings. At the start of it, demon possession cases rose at an alarming rate, often baffling both doctors and law enforcement before one of the emerging heroes arrived to reveal the truth.
It was getting grimdark as humanity had grown accustomed to fearing the darkness… now they adapted to it.
Support on the patreon, more chapters are being made faster there at patreon.com/heavenlyenel
I voice-acted some paragraphs of chapter 87 of my Gilgamesh fic; you can check it on our Patreon(patreon.com/heavenlyenel) for free too. Let me know what you think of it.