Iceberg Restaurant.
"..."
"What are you wearing, and what are those expressions?"
Constantine, looking at the Justice League members, whose clothes and expressions all carried an indescribable air, as though they had just endured all the suffering of the mortal world, could not help asking that question.
After all, Superman's expression of finding no meaning in living was truly thought-provoking.
He could not understand what kind of torment the man had gone through to wear such an expression.
Faced with his question,
Batman glanced at Constantine, who wore nothing but a pair of pink beach shorts, had hair fluffed up like a broom, and whose body was covered in all sorts of terrible traces. After hesitating slightly, he could only shake his head in a cold tone.
"...I think you should worry about yourself first."
After saying that,
he looked at his teammates, whose injuries had automatically healed once the game had completely ended, and could not help letting out a sigh of relief.
If those injuries had not healed,
then from now on, the Justice League would have had a Superman in a wheelchair, along with a Wonder Woman whose body was in a molecular state—existing, yet not existing...
As for his warning,
after the long baptism of five years,
Constantine's sense of shame had long since fallen completely to zero. He was a man who embodied despicability, shamelessness, vulgarity, debauchery, bisexuality, a furry fetish, eating, drinking, whoring, gambling, being either top or bottom... With a casual wave of his hand, he said with complete indifference,
"It's fine. Right now, I'm relaxed beyond belief~~~"
His words
sounded exceptionally carefree.
Originally,
as someone who had sought death countless times and offended innumerable Gods and Devils,
Constantine had needed to live every day amid deep terror and endless pursuit.
Moreover, having