In an instant, the black monsters were swallowed by the torrent of energy erupting from the tip of the umbrella. Aisha, who had been waiting below with her mouth open for food, saw the pie falling from the sky vanish and immediately burst into tears with a wail.
Dick hurriedly picked her up and began soothing her. Constantine dismissed the Magic Circle and looked at Schiller. "You know magic too? You never told me about that."
"And why is your magic so strange? What was that thing you shouted just now? A spell?"
"It was nothing. I don't need a spell either." Schiller seemed to have satisfied some strange sense of accomplishment. His mood visibly improved. He sat back down on the sofa, propped the umbrella upright in front of him, and rested both hands on its handle.
"As far as I know, magic that requires spells is usually pretty powerful. Where did you learn that? Teach me, will you?" Constantine leaned closer to Schiller.
In truth, Schiller did not know magic at all. He had merely unleashed all the energy he had previously stored inside the Gray Mist, energy he had fleeced from Knull.
Without using some mystical method to harness it, that energy could really only achieve one effect.
If Schiller had used that energy to blast the owls in the real world just now, their souls would have been knocked out of their bodies and scattered. If a soul was strong enough, it could evade or defend against it directly. It did not have nearly as many functions as magic.
Whether they were Demon Gods or sorcerers in the Marvel universe, they had to process this energy through special methods in order to use it more efficiently—the so-called "spells."
Energy was like bullets, while spells were like