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The mirrored corridors of Strange's maze twisted and branched like the neural pathways of some cosmic brain, each reflection showing a different version of reality, a different possible outcome. Constantine moved through the labyrinth with Nergal at his side, trying to ignore the whispers that seemed to emanate from every reflective surface.
"Your little magician friend has impressive technique," Nergal observed as they navigated a particularly complex junction where six corridors met at impossible angles. "This construct is drawing power from at least seven different dimensional sources simultaneously."
Constantine paused at the intersection, studying the reflections in each path. In one, he saw himself as an old man, grey-haired and wearing robes similar to Strange's. In another, he was younger, but his eyes held depths of corruption that made him look away quickly. A third showed him standing over a grave marked with Zatanna's name.
"Bloody showoff," Constantine muttered, but he had to admit he was impressed. The Mirror Dimension wasn't just a testing ground it was a window into potential futures, a way of examining the consequences of choices not yet made.
They chose the fourth corridor, following an instinct Constantine couldn't quite name. As they walked deeper into the maze, the whispers grew louder, resolving into recognizable voices from his past.
"Newcastle was your fault, Johnny..."
"How many more will die for your arrogance?"
"The First of the Fallen sends his regards..."
"Ignore them," Constantine said, as much to himself as to Nergal. "It's just psychological pressure, trying to make us doubt ourselves."
"Perhaps," the demon replied, but his golden eyes were fixed on something in the mirrors that Constantine couldn't see. "Though I wonder if your sorcerer friend realizes what else he's invited into his little testing ground."
Before Constantine could ask what he meant, they rounded a corner and found themselves facing the first of Strange's guardians. It stood eight feet tall, composed entirely of crystalline structures that reflected the maze around them in fractal patterns. But as Constantine watched, he realized the crystals weren't just reflecting light they were reflecting possibilities, showing glimpses of what might happen based on how he chose to confront the challenge.
"A Probability Guardian," Nergal said with something approaching respect. "Haven't seen one of these in centuries. They're designed to adapt their defenses based on whatever attack pattern you're most likely to use."
Constantine studied the creature, watching the way the crystalline facets shifted to show different defensive configurations. In one reflection, he saw himself trying to bind the guardian with traditional circles and failing as his spell was turned back on him. In another, he attempted a direct mystical assault and was reduced to ash by the creature's retaliation.
"Right then," Constantine said, lighting a cigarette and taking a thoughtful drag. "If it adapts to likely attack patterns, the trick is to do something completely unlikely."
He reached into his coat and pulled out his battered wallet, extracting a twenty-pound note. The British currency looked absurdly mundane in the crystalline maze, but Constantine held it out toward the Probability Guardian like a peace offering.
"I'd like to buy you a drink," he said conversationally.
The guardian's crystalline structure flickered, probability calculations racing through its faceted surfaces as it tried to process this unexpected approach. Constantine could see reflections of confusion spreading through the creature's form its defensive matrices had no framework for responding to a social invitation.
"That's..." Nergal began, but Constantine cut him off with a gesture.
"Not finished yet." Constantine took another drag of his cigarette and smiled at the guardian with genuine warmth. "See, the thing about probability is that it's not just about what's likely to happen. It's also about what's possible, however remote. And in my experience, the most impossible things often have the most interesting consequences."
He stepped forward, offering his hand to the crystalline creature as if he were greeting an old friend. "John Constantine, professional bastard and part-time miracle worker. Pleased to meet you."
The Probability Guardian's structure began to shift, crystalline facets rearranging themselves as it processed this unprecedented input. For a moment, Constantine thought he'd broken the construct entirely. Then, impossibly, one of its crystal appendages extended toward his outstretched hand.
The moment of contact sent a shock through the Mirror Dimension that made the maze's walls ripple like water. Constantine felt the guardian's alien intelligence brush against his mind, tasting his memories and intentions with mechanical curiosity.
You are not what you seem, the guardian's voice resonated directly in his thoughts. Your probability matrix is... irregular. You carry echoes of choices that should not exist.
"Tell me something I don't know," Constantine replied, but he kept his mental shields relaxed, allowing the construct to examine him. Sometimes the best way through a test was to fail it in exactly the right way.
You have died and lived again. You have made bargains that should have destroyed your soul, yet you remain intact. You carry the mark of beings that exist outside conventional space-time. The guardian's crystalline form began to glow with internal light. You are an anomaly.
"That's what makes me useful," Constantine said. "Anomalies can go places normal people can't, do things that shouldn't be possible. Sometimes the universe needs a bit of chaos to keep things interesting."
The Probability Guardian released his hand and stepped aside, its crystalline structure reshaping itself into a doorway. Pass, Anomaly. The center of the maze awaits.
Constantine nodded his thanks and continued deeper into the labyrinth, Nergal following with an expression that might have been admiration or concern it was hard to tell with demons.
"That was either brilliant or insane," the demon observed.
"Por que no los dos?" Constantine replied, which earned him a snort of amusement from his infernal companion.
They encountered two more guardians on their way to the center a Living Shadow that fed on fear until Constantine offered it his genuine terror of failing the people he cared about, and a Truth-Seeker that tried to bind him with his own lies until he admitted, with complete honesty, that he had no idea what he was doing most of the time.
Each encounter felt like a test of something deeper than magical ability. Strange wasn't just evaluating his power he was examining his character, his motivations, his fundamental approach to impossible problems.
Finally, they reached the center of the maze: a circular chamber where all the mirrors converged, creating a space that existed in multiple dimensions simultaneously. At the heart of the chamber stood a pedestal holding what looked like a sphere of crystallized starlight, beautiful and terrible in its perfection.
But Constantine barely noticed the objective. His attention was fixed on the figure standing beside the pedestal a tall man in an expensive suit, his features aristocratic and cruel, his smile sharp enough to cut glass.
The same figure who had watched him in the Hell's Kitchen alley three nights ago.
"Hello, John," the man said, his accent cultured and unplaceable. "I was wondering when you'd finally make it to the center of things."
Constantine felt Nergal tense beside him, the demon's form shifting into a more combat-ready configuration. But the stranger didn't seem concerned by the threat.
"Who are you?" Constantine asked, though he suspected he wouldn't like the answer.
The man's smile widened. "I'm someone who's been watching your career with great interest, John Constantine. Someone who's been waiting a very long time for you to arrive in this particular reality." He gestured toward the crystallized starlight on the pedestal. "Someone who arranged for you to be here."
The implications hit Constantine like a physical blow. This wasn't a cosmic accident or a random dimensional displacement. His presence in the Marvel Universe had been orchestrated, planned, manipulated by forces he was only beginning to understand.
"What do you want?" Constantine asked.
"What I've always wanted," the stranger replied. "To watch you dance on the strings of fate, believing you're in control while playing exactly the role I've written for you." His eyes gleamed with malevolent satisfaction. "Welcome to Act Two, John Constantine. I promise you, the performance is just beginning."
/-\
If you wish to read more and if you like the story don't hesitate to support me because I really get exhausted of this work than check out my Patreon at
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Support the story and get instant Access to +3 More Chapters OR +7 More Chapters OR +10 Chapters if you want! (YOU ARE MISSING A LOT OF SUSPENSE!!đ)