Turns Out DC Was a Jinx

The car tore down the street like a wild horse gone loose, its engine roaring deafeningly like an enraged beast—but more like the kind of roar that sounded short of breath and ready to die at any moment.

He wasn't the only one feeling terrified and worried. Along the way, the crazed taxi frightened plenty of pedestrians, and all kinds of foul insults drifted indistinctly into the car.

The vocabulary wasn't particularly varied, though. The curses went around and around in just a few phrases, but Ian had no time to educate America's people on practical vulgarities.

"Handbrake! The handbrake!" Ian leaned half his body into the driver's seat, his fingers reaching for the protected lever, yet he didn't dare actually touch it.

He was terrified the car would roll over.

This was a battle of acting skills.

Fortunately, the taxi driver had no ability to tell.

"Get back and sit down! You want to die, but I don't!" The taxi driver was panicking, his forehead covered in dense sweat. Beads of sweat the size of beans slid down his cheeks, yet he still didn't slow down or stop. This guy was stubborn as hell; instead, he grabbed a thermos and viciously smashed it toward Ian's approaching head.

[Berserker Class Experience +1]

The damage wasn't minor.

Combined with the continuous "health loss" effect Ian had triggered earlier using the "Leveling Pendant," it gave him another point of class experience. But Ian was in no mood to be happy about it.

"You don't want to die? Then fucking hit the brakes!" Ian gripped both headrests in the front row tightly, his voice full of fury. He normally wasn't someone who got angry easily.

Faced with Ian's shouting.

The driver remained silent, gripping the steering wheel with one hand and the Stainless Steel Thermos with the other as he wildly swung it backward. Even after Ian pulled back, he was still smashing at empty air.

Just in case.

"This is a matter of life and death!"

The driver roared and slammed the accelerator again. The scenery outside began to blur. The speedometer needle trembled as it approached 250, and the car body began to emit an ominous metallic wail.

"Huh? How about you look at my skin color again? Does my life not count?" Ian finally gave up struggling and could only helplessly hide behind the driver's seat.

Both hands clutched the metal bars on the back of the front seat.

Honestly.

Ian was truly nervous.

He only hated that he hadn't brought a helmet with him when he left home. As long as his head didn't shatter, he could still use his skills to heal his battered body.

Of course.

Nervous as he was, Ian hadn't completely panicked. After all, as the son of a powerhouse, he still had one final trump card: screaming at the top of his lungs, "Dad, save me!"

With Superman's speed.

He could absolutely rescue him before he was smashed into pieces. How should he put it? He had never felt this way before, but now Ian was simply grateful that his father really was up there.

A man who could genuinely stand in the sky above Earth.

"I'm definitely reporting you! Your license will be revoked!" The more Ian thought about it, the angrier he became. Gritting his teeth, he felt certain this taxi driver had something wrong with his head.

Maybe he had snuck over from neighboring Gotham.

"Ha! I don't even have a license!" The taxi driver never stopped waving the thermos, repeatedly pounding the air. Clearly, he was afraid Ian would sneak-attack him the moment he lowered his guard.

"..."

Ian went numb after hearing that, unable to understand why he was so unlucky. Before his eyes, the taxi seemed to have activated GTA's "single-player mode."

Drifting around corners?

Standard maneuver.

It leaped over an unfinished bridge gap, sparks flying from the undercarriage. It then narrowly skimmed past the rear of an oil tanker, and the rearview mirror shattered with a crack, exploding into fragments.

"Fuck! Are you filming Fast and Furious?"

Ian's little face had turned pale.

Several times, he nearly failed to recognize when to call out for help. The taxi driver drove his insane cab through a series of high-difficulty stunts, charging out of the city and crashing into a suburban farm.

The weather here was completely different from the city.

The city had been bright and sunny, but this place was blanketed by dark clouds. The sky was so dim it seemed like midnight, and an oppressive atmosphere covered the entire farm.

Ian sensed something ominous.

"Where the hell have you brought me?"

Ian wondered whether this was some black market den that harvested kidneys.

Yet in the face of his loud questioning.

The taxi driver turned a deaf ear.

"Imp! Fasten your seat belt!" he simply shouted a warning at Ian, then drove his taxi straight into a wooden house.

Of course.

By this point, he had finally started braking.

"Rumble!"

With a tremendous crash.

The taxi finally came to a stop inside the house.

Its front end had been completely mangled, the windshield totally shattered. Once it stopped, the hood sprang open with a bang, and black smoke began hissing out from inside.

"Constantine, are you still alive?" The driver forcefully shoved open the warped door and climbed out of the car. As he shouted, he rushed toward the rear seats.

He wanted to check on Ian, the middle school student.

Just then.

"If you'd come any later, you could've collected my corpse directly!" A man in a beige trench coat emerged from the shadows of the rubble. His blond hair was disheveled, and a conspicuous streak of blood hung from the corner of his mouth.

"Charles, when I said I was dying, I meant it literally, understand?"

He questioned him loudly.

However, Charles the taxi driver didn't respond. He yanked open the rear door and stuck his head inside, only to find no trace of that outrageous middle schooler in the back seat.

"Where is he?"

Charles the taxi driver looked bewildered.

"What person?"

Constantine, the trench-coated man, walked over with a frown.

"He was just here!" Charles unwillingly crawled into the car and searched everywhere, but he couldn't even find a single hair. A chill rose in his heart.

Had he really hit a ghost in broad daylight?

"Over here." Just as the driver stood at a loss, a hand slowly emerged from the collapsed bricks and tiles in front of the car. That youthful voice rang out weakly.

Seeing this, Charles hurried over and helped Ian free himself from the debris. After checking him over, he found that the kid was merely dirty and disheveled.

"You're fucking weird! Didn't I tell you to fasten your seat belt?" Charles first let out a long breath of relief, then questioned him loudly with lingering fear in his voice.

"Huh?"

Ian, the victim, immediately flew into a rage. "Can you go look at your own car? Feel around and see whether the back seat of that piece of junk even has seat belts!"

At those words.

Charles fell silent.

"They might've missed it during the annual inspection... Uh, fine, I never took it in for inspection." He replied quietly, obviously guilty and lacking confidence.

"..."

Ian had no idea how to respond anymore. Considering the guy didn't even have an operating license, was this situation really that surprising?

Still thinking and growing angrier, Ian was just about to punch him.

"Charles! Why did you bring a child to such a dangerous place? That demon hasn't been dealt with yet!" A startled, uncertain voice suddenly rang out.

Ian looked over.

He saw a scruffy trench-coated man running toward him with a furious, alarmed expression. If he hadn't heard wrong, this man was the infamous DC disaster, Constantine? And the taxi driver he had hired was Constantine's companion? Ah! He got it now. No wonder his luck had gone straight to hell after meeting the driver!

He had really gotten contaminated by a jinx!

"We have to get this kid out of here!" Constantine had no idea what Ian was thinking. He merely stared at Ian, his tone trembling with fear.

After saying that.

The man grabbed Ian and tried to run toward the entrance.

However.

"Huh?"

Constantine strangely discovered that he couldn't pull someone who was barely over five feet tall.

"What's with this guy?"

Before Constantine could react.

A sharp crack of breaking wood suddenly came from the second floor.

His expression changed.

The next moment.

"Eat! Eat! Eat! Delicious child!"

Accompanied by a chilling laugh, a black shadow with a hideous face shot down from the dark second floor like lightning. Trailing rolling clouds of black mist, it lunged at Ian.