He had survived once again, sent Little Zatanna somewhere safe, and secured a final escape route in case the resistance failed.
One plan, one price, three goals achieved. That counted as a true victory.
Yet Constantine felt no joy at all. The feeling of having caused his lover's death left him speechless. Was it guilt? Regret? Neither. He simply had a habitual headache and needed more nicotine and alcohol to steady himself.
He did not want to think about anything, because that was the easiest way to live. The more he knew, the more helpless he was against this dark world.
But Death was still waiting for his answer. No one could turn a blind eye to Death, because like other higher concepts, she was everywhere.
"Phew." Constantine let out a long breath of smoke, then turned to look at the living room behind him. Little Zatanna had gone somewhere, but that alone seemed enough to restore his confidence. With a crooked smile, he said, "Dear Goddess of Death, to be honest, I've offended far too many people. Why don't you come inside and sit for a while? I need to check my ledger."
"..."
For an instant, Death seemed to give him a speechless look, but it was quickly hidden beneath a smile.
"It has nothing to do with those people. At least, not the ones you've dealt with before." She folded her parasol and turned to look at the wasteland before the house, as well as this gray Limbo. Her gaze seemed drawn to the souls flying through the sky, which looked like birds. "You must have encountered something strange recently—something novel even to you. These Little Red Monsters are another form of life, something that has never appeared before."
"Then I really don't know. Oh, come on,