Chapter 138: Plague Angel! Heaven Falls!
The air was sweet.
But it was so sweet it reminded one of rotten communion wafers.
The moment the prison, inscribed with the inverted Bible, slowly rose from the ground.
The originally bright living room instantly became dim—the light scattered like startled birds, as if every ray was unwilling to shine upon the figure within the prison.
The entire space seemed to be squeezed by an invisible hand, and light was no longer a refuge but a betrayer—it once symbolized divinity, and now it could only reflect the gradually corrupting existence within the prison.
“Did this angel offend you, and then you defiled him by some means?” Ian stopped his fingertips three inches away from the transparent prison.
It was mainly because the angel in the prison looked like he had contracted some dirty illness.
“It wasn’t me who did something, but he himself… you’d better not look too long.” Crowley’s voice came from behind, rich with the mellowness of whiskey.
“That thing is contagious, neither angels nor demons are immune.” Crowley took large gulps of his cigar, smoke swirling around him as if to help him ward off contamination.
This high-ranking demon was fond of power and extremely cautious, possessing deep research and obsession with magic and the occult, so he clearly knew how to isolate contamination.
“It’s fine, I like growing eyes on my body, I just can’t grow them myself.” Ian didn’t turn around. His gaze was attracted by the angel’s form, which was one of extreme decay and distortion.
Only to see.
Within the prison, the angel floated quietly, eyes tightly shut, his body fixed in the air by an unseen force. His skin was as dark and dry as mud, and something could be vaguely seen slowly wriggling beneath the skin.
It was as if countless tiny living creatures were constantly moving within the flesh and blood.
The angel’s wings had long since rotted and withered.
The feathers were dry and falling off.
Unnatural lumps bulged at the joints of the wings, one after another, filled with a green pus that should have smelled foul, but couldn’t be smelled due to the prison’s isolation.
Not only that.
A fine crack appeared below the angel’s collarbone—not a wound, but more like some newly formed organ, opening and closing with each breath, exuding star-dust like shimmering light.
As if a mouth that inhaled and exhaled air.
“This is not just a fallen angel, it’s already a plague angel.” Even with Ian’s aesthetic sense, he felt his scalp tingle, and he didn’t even want to be in the vicinity of the black angel.
He took a few steps back.
A bronze chandelier hung from the ceiling, its light dim and weak, illuminating the transparent cage that imprisoned the angel, casting the entire space in a sickly play of light and shadow.
The strangest part was the angel’s forehead. Where divine runes should have been inlaid, there was now a thin membrane-like substance, beneath which countless tiny characters could be seen flowing.
That was not the Enochian language of Heaven.
Nor was it the script of any known civilization.
Those distorted symbols changed their structure with the observer’s gaze, and as Ian slightly shifted his angle, he saw them form countless eyes that writhed incessantly.
At this moment.
Ian felt he had an epiphany.
He recalled the bizarre drawing Morpheus, the Dream God, had sketched in his notebook when he was rescued, and that he likely had never been able to find the notebook Morpheus had mentioned.
Of course.
He was also ashamed to see Miss Death, who had mentioned “the protection of the highest power would make them undiscoverable by invaders” the last time she appeared before him.
Clues connected one after another.
It made Ian feel like he was touching upon the answer.
“This angel has been corrupted by an Outer Universe-level Cthulhu contamination.” Ian didn’t know if Crowley knew about the Outer Universe, so he turned to look at the Demon King behind him.
Yes.
The name Crowley had long since provided Ian with the information he desired.
This guy, like his godfather, was a figure within the supernatural forces, possibly also related to Outer Universe matters, but in a way that was harmoniously integrated and accepted by the DC universe.
Crowley, the Demon King.
He was originally a tailor from Canniesby, Scotland, in the 17th century, who sold his soul to a demon so his younger brother could grow taller, bigger, and fatter. His mother was a witch and taught him a lot of magic.
This laid the foundation for him to become a Demon King.
In the American drama Supernatural, Crowley did indeed rule Hell for a period, although with much less authority. However, among the crossroads demons, he was certainly a demon king-level powerhouse. As the king of crossroads demons, he was obsessed with “contract games,” enjoying tricking humans and his own kind with cleverly designed clauses.
Of course.
Crossroads demons, unlike most demons, were not keen on killing or other malicious acts; like his kin, they only enjoyed making deals.
“This is the ‘good show’ I was talking about—Heaven is about to put on a spectacular performance.” Crowley continued to swirl his wine glass, the amber liquid leaving sticky trails on the glass.
“I call this the ‘Apocalypse Special Edition,’ and as long as I’m in the human world, I’ll have the best front-row seat to watch the show.” He revealed his true purpose for coming to the human world.
His tone was full of schadenfreude.
The Demon King showed no signs of confusion regarding Ian’s mention of an Outer Universe invasion, indicating that any being with a modicum of ability was already aware of the invasion.
“Uh, you don’t have to just watch, how about also considering invading Earth, committing evil deeds, acting wildly, perpetrating atrocities, causing trouble, and being lawless?”
Ian’s golden pupils stared to the side, glancing at the moving oil painting on the wall—the hellish landscape in the painting was changing seasons with the rhythm of Crowley’s tapping fingers.
He was still thinking about this luxurious manor.
Even though it now housed something dirty.
It still didn’t diminish the boy’s affection for it.
His golden pupils sparkled in the dim light.
“Hmm? I thought we had skipped this part.” Crowley paused in his action of adding ice to his wine glass, and the ice cubes made a crisp clinking sound in the amber liquid.
“Destroying the world or something, I’m really not that kind of demon without ambition.” He spat an olive pit into the gilded ashtray, which made a crisp “ding” sound.
This guy had a certain taste for gourmet food and fine wine.
He rinsed his mouth.
Crowley looked at Ian again.
His tone was serious.
“Actually, without Lucifer’s script for me, I have no interest in causing trouble in the human world. In my opinion, the human world is quite a good place.”
“Not only does it lack the beautiful scenery of Hell, but the human world is also quite dangerous, not a place where one can invade at will. Do I look like a stupid and arrogant demon?”
Crowley sighed elegantly.
This action made him look more like a human stockbroker than a Demon King.
“You could be,” Ian said sincerely.
“But I don’t want to be.”
Crowley put down his wine glass, the bottom of the glass making a crisp sound against the coffee table, “The fact that I could lure this angel using Constantine already proves I’m smart enough.”
His firm attitude made Ian very regretful. Ian’s shoulders slumped in disappointment, making him look like a poor soul who had bet everything on the lottery and won nothing.
Staring at the boy’s expression.
Crowley smiled slightly, tapping his fingers on the armrest of the sofa, “I’ve investigated you, and I know what you want to do; you want to be a superhero in the human world and gather human faith.”
“That’s a very good disguise and choice. If I were to do something, I’d let you gain the reputation of saving the world.” It’s unclear what Crowley considered Ian to be.
However, he was indeed knowledgeable about some of Ian’s actions.
However.
Ian’s intention in wanting him to commit evil deeds was not that complicated.
“No, I just want this fantastic manor.” Ian blinked and then honestly shook his head, revealing his simple, unadorned thought without reservation.
As soon as these words were spoken.
Crowley’s expression visibly faltered.
“???????”
The Demon King’s expression froze on his face.
There was a full three-second silence in the living room.
“You wish to have this manor? Very well, I shall give it to you directly as my apology.” Crowley put down his wine glass, making a decisive decision.
He then clapped his hands into the air.
A meticulously dressed demon immediately appeared from the shadows.
“Transfer this manor to this young man’s name, and also change the contract of personnel such as the gardeners, so that their object of loyalty becomes this young man.”
Crowley gave instructions to the demon wearing human skin. The taciturn Demon Butler nodded, glanced at Ian, and then disappeared back into the shadows.
At this moment.
The Human Bone Piano suddenly emitted a series of piercing notes.
“Crowley.”
A hoarse voice emanated from beneath the keys; it was the talking piano expressing its opinion, “You’re so cowardly, yet you can still manage Hell?”
The voice of the Human Bone Piano was filled with mockery.
“Heh.”
Crowley glanced at the old grand piano, his tone calm yet irrefutable, “You belong to him now too, and provoking further is not a wise choice.”
In response.
The Human Bone Piano let out a cold laugh.
“I have my integrity! I’m not like you!”
As the words fell.
It played a shrill melody.
“It can play by itself?”
Ian watched the piano thoughtfully.
“Heh.”
Crowley ignored the Human Bone Piano and turned to Ian, saying.
“See, this is the drawback of old folks not using the internet. It’s different for someone like me who chases trends; I learned what kind of person you are in ten minutes on the internet.”
“This is much more efficient than fortune-telling.” With that, he casually rummaged on the sofa, ostentatiously displaying his tablet computer.
Not only the latest model.
It was a flagship brand from Wayne Enterprises.
“Uh…”
Ian, upon seeing this.
Felt somewhat conflicted.
He had never encountered such a troublesome demon in his life. The one before him was far more terrifying than those demons who clamored to kill him and his parents.
“If you keep giving me things like this, you’ll become my Uncle Crowley.”
Ian didn’t want to sigh, but the demon’s methods were truly insidious. He truly lived up to being a Demon King, and it was normal for a fourteen-year-old boy like himself to be unable to handle such an existence.
“I sincerely hope we can maintain this friendly relationship.” Crowley smiled like a merchant who had just closed a big deal; crossroads demons had such an aura.
Crossroads demons are a special group of demons, and they can indeed be considered merchants in Hell. They are characterized by red eyes and often appear as beautiful women, capable of fulfilling any human wish but charging a very high price. The transaction period is generally ten years, after which a hellhound will drag the soul of the trader into Hell.
To be honest.
If Crowley hadn’t produced a contract, Ian would have signed it immediately; he had been looking for an entrance to Hell for a long time. It wasn’t just about magic circles; Ian remembered he had promised his father he would build a prison in Hell.
His memory of the conversation with his father had “already” become hazy, but Ian was certain he had promised. He absolutely could not neglect a promise made to his father.
“You’re making me feel embarrassed.”
Ian sighed.
He was also confused.
He had killed the demon’s son.
Could it be that his son was also an invasion mission from “upstairs”?
It was too absurd!
That deep-seated hatred must be buried in the demon’s heart, and then he would seek revenge, right! The Demon King Crowley seemed oblivious to Ian’s expectations and speculations.
“Actually, such things only fall into two categories: worthwhile and not worthwhile. When it’s worthwhile, no one understands social graces better than demons,” Crowley seemed quite frank.
Upon seeing this, Ian also raised an eyebrow.
This action made him look at least three seconds older than his actual age.
“I have another book, a trash can, possibly with you.” If the little punk girl had been captured by him, Ian figured his property would definitely be in Crowley’s hands.
This guess seemed to be correct.
“Mr. Abyss Magic Bucket, I remember this boastful demon; it left a deep impression on me, not only for its twisted mind but also for its incredibly clumsy undercover skills.”
Crowley nodded, saying with emotion, “However, that demon was very loyal to you. It used Sangong Mo’s banner to fool many of my subordinates.”
He was clearly aware of Demonic Minotaur’s actions.
What was previously said were all misunderstandings.
It was probably a misunderstanding that occurred after certain events Ian didn’t know about.
“As for that book…” Crowley hesitated, then took out a remote control. With the press of a second button, a gilded birdcage slowly descended from the ceiling.
Only to see.
Inside the cage.
Ian’s Raging Magic Book was frantically banging against the bars.
The pages flapped like an angry bird’s wings.
“It seems to be very loyal to you as well.”
Crowley watched with amusement as Ian manually pried open the birdcage. He observed Ian then immediately quiet down and transform back into Ian’s Beloved Magic Book, which he tucked beneath his belly.
This book was as quiet as a contented cat once it was in Ian’s hands.
“This is my charisma.” Ian said without batting an eye, using up another piece of his truth quota for the day, which was indeed a bit too extravagant.
Crowley swirled his wine glass noncommittally.
“I’ve had it for many years. This book is very special, but the power it possesses is… limited.” He pondered for a moment, as if choosing his words carefully.
“Redundant.”
Crowley finally used one word to summarize it.
“That’s because you’re not using it in the right way.”
Ian took out the magic book he had placed near his belly again.
“All the magic of my Ian Faction is created with its help.” He casually flipped open a page, and complex runes immediately appeared on it. This book was truly effective for creating magic.
It didn’t even require Ian to have any magical knowledge; he only needed to clearly express the effect of the magic he wanted, and it would create a perfectly structured magic for him.
This is absolutely a divine artifact.
It’s like something that doesn’t require the owner to understand coding knowledge; the owner only needs to state what game or app they want, and it will create the game or app on its own.
Who wouldn’t love such a treasure?
Perhaps demons like Crowley wouldn’t.
“Creating things that don’t exist with it is not a worthwhile transaction, as the consumption of magic power is enormous,” Crowley commented with narrowed eyes.
He is quite knowledgeable about magic.
Crowley possesses powerful magical abilities and demonic strength, can control Dark Power, perform curses and prophecies, and has mastered many mystical rituals and spells.
“Magic power is like money; if you lack it, you can find places to earn it.” Ian was indifferent about it; with a traitorous King of Gods by his side, was all of Asgard far away?
Hearing this.
Crowley looked deeply at Ian.
He was silent for a few seconds, a trace of inquiry in his eyes. He slowly put down his wine glass, a serious expression on his face, “I once consulted Lucifer about this book.”
“He told me this book is ‘something that fell off a wall.’ Dear friend, can you tell me, what wall is that?” Crowley’s intuition as a demonic merchant told him.
The boy in front of him might be able to answer the question that Lucifer was too impatient to tell him—in Crowley’s opinion, the boy in front of him might also be a species that fell off some “wall.”
“Hm?”
Ian was slightly taken aback.
He looked around the magnificent manor he had just acquired, his gaze sweeping over the gilded wall lamps and carved staircase railings, finally landing back on Crowley’s oily, round face.
Weighing the options.
Ian, considering the manor, chose to be the generous Ian.
“It’s a wall that encircles the entire multiverse, you can think of it as the outer wall of the multiverse—and on it are many, many indescribably strange and peculiar things.”
He said it.
But didn’t say it all.
Such knowledge was not very useful to Crowley and most people “in stories.”
“So that’s how it is…” Fine sweat suddenly beaded on Crowley’s shiny forehead as he mechanically chewed an olive, the pit crunching between his teeth.
He mumbled to himself.
His pupils dilated.
“Are you using the angel you caught with Constantine?” Ian wanted to change the subject, so he walked back to the transparent prison cage and stared at the mutated angel in front of him.
His fingertips lightly touched the surface of the cage, and small runes immediately lit up at the point of contact. It was clear that these runes were isolating any contact from within to without.
Hearing this.
Crowley shivered as if waking from a dream, the olive oil stain on his tie shimmering with the movement.
“Ah, yes.” He pulled out a crumpled handkerchief to wipe his sweat. “Capturing an angel alive is not easy, even a sick angel is difficult for us demons to capture.”
“But with Constantine, it’s different. Actually, I didn’t realize the angel with Constantine was acting strangely at first; it was Constantine who noticed the angel was off and wanted to make a deal with me.” Crowley explained how he discovered the angel’s mutation, clearly having tricked Constantine, who was trying to trick him.
The demon at the crossroads was not as easily fooled as other demons.
“Then this angel should be the dark angel Manny.” Ian, through Crowley’s information, confirmed the angel’s identity. This angel had quite a significant role in Constantine’s story.
Angel Manny initially appeared as a supporter.
His mission seemed to be to protect and guide Constantine.
However.
In reality.
Angel Manny had already committed two of the seven deadly sins, meaning he was no longer a pure and spotless angel. Such behavior was, of course, a major problem for a heavenly being.
It was later proven that this angel was the leader of the evil organization, the Hellfire Club, so, much like his skin color, Angel Manny had perhaps become a hidden fallen angel at some point.
It was just that in his self-perception, he might have still believed he was doing the right thing, which is why he still possessed divine power and didn’t exhibit the typical characteristics of a fallen angel.
Angels are such “idealistic” beings.
Of course.
Even becoming a fallen angel would certainly be much better than becoming this current Plague Angel—Ian felt he had found the source of plague for the DC universe, Tich.
“If this kind of contamination can cause Heaven to fall, aren’t you demons worried?” Ian leaned closer to observe the black threads moving beneath the angel’s skin.
“Aren’t you afraid that the pollution on Manny will spread in Heaven, and then through the angels to the human world, and eventually seep into Hell?”
Perhaps because he heard his name, the angel in the cage suddenly twitched slightly, his eyelids fluttering continuously, but under the influence of some sealing power, he was unable to fully awaken.
“Afraid? Of course, we’re afraid, but what good is fear? Fear only makes me lose my judgment. Rather than being afraid, it’s better to think about what changes it can bring to the world’s structure.”
“The angels will inevitably suffer.”
“This will become a dark chapter in the history of angels. However, we in Hell will not interfere, because I know one thing—someone will always deal with the angels’ problems.”
“Lucifer just laughed heartily about it, so we don’t need to panic.” Crowley finally regained his composure, grinning with nicotine-stained teeth.
Cigar smoke formed a small vortex above his head.
“Well, if Lucifer isn’t panicking, then I’m not panicking either.”
Ian was somewhat astonished by this, and it reaffirmed his suspicion that Miss Death might not have found that notebook, as it was hidden within the core of Heaven.
“This contamination is like a maggot on the bone, once you get it, you can’t shake it off, but there are many ways to avoid getting it yourself; at least demons have many—let me correct my previous statement, Heaven itself won’t be harmed, but the angels living within it might not be so lucky. That’s the downside of liking to use shared organs.” Crowley again gleefully quoted a descriptor once used by Lucifer.
He gently tapped the cigar in his hand, scattering sparks. Then, the Demon King proceeded to educate Ian about the angels’ shared “Grand Library.”
“Do you know where the angels’ powers come from?” Crowley didn’t wait for Ian to answer, instead asking and answering himself, “The angels’ power comes from Heaven.”
“This is why fallen angels become much weaker after losing their connection to Heaven. The angels’ power is actually Heaven’s public power.”
“Every angel can use it, like their ‘Grand Library,’ every angel can link to it, thereby obtaining a state of omniscience and omnipotence.”
“Yes, that’s right, the true source of the angels’ power is Heaven. The rights they possess are shared, which means if an angel brings something that doesn’t belong to Heaven into Heaven.”
“This thing can contaminate Heaven’s database, and through it, spread to every angel—since it originates from Heaven, the angels have no right to refuse.”
Crowley’s joy was genuine, and his schadenfreude was palpable. Ian had heard this from Lucifer before, but Crowley’s description was now a bit more detailed.
“Manny put that source of contamination into Heaven’s ‘Grand Library’?!” Ian’s mind raced with this, and he looked at the dark angel in the cage with wide eyes.
He could hardly imagine how an angel could cause such a disaster, just as he couldn’t imagine how classified group chat messages from the White House could appear on social media.
“God shouldn’t have created dark angels. Look, wherever there are dark angels, there’s trouble. This is true black humor,” Crowley summarized with a sharp remark.
In his time, people looked down on those with dark skin.
“Is this the consequence of reading others’ shared knowledge without wearing protection for your own brain?” Ian wasn’t racist; he just lamented that his dislike for others using his things was a good habit. Perhaps the invasive species that was placed in Heaven had truly found its paradise.
It casually contaminated a high-level species of this universe.
“Right, right! Not wearing protection makes you easily infected, the angels can testify.” Crowley seemed to really like Ian’s phrasing and clapped his hands, laughing heartily.
“Just wait and see, Heaven will soon be like those nuns with gonorrhea—falling from the sky with a whoosh.” Crowley’s tone was filled with anticipation.
Cigar ash sprinkled onto his striped suit.
Regarding this.
Ian didn’t mind.
As long as it didn’t fall onto his own floor.
“Will true monsters gestate within the angels?” Ian stared at the new growths on Manny’s right wing—tiny human faces could be vaguely seen swimming within the semi-transparent swellings.
While observing.
Ian’s hands typed blindly on the half-broken mobile phone. He knew he should notify the Justice League about this, specifically Batman and Old Man Clark.
“Who knows?”
Crowley replied indifferently.
He once again revealed his demonic side; as a creature of Hell, he wasn’t very concerned about whether the human world would be secondarily contaminated by falling angels.
Of course.
He may not care, but someone else does.
“Click-clack~ Click-clack~”
The boy’s hands tapped on the screen.
【Recipient: Old Man 】
【Cc: Batman 】
【This is Ian, Grand Duke and new head of the Justice League, urgently notifying you of a potential public health crisis in Heaven.
According to reliable intelligence （Source: A molting fallen angel + a wealthy executive from Hell ）, Heaven is reportedly experiencing an angelic plague due to group activities.
Preliminary judgment is that the angels, unlike me, don’t wear head protection, which will cost them dearly. They will likely fall like pigeons with bird flu!
We hope Batman will take precautions.
We also hope Old Man will supervise Batman, so Batman doesn’t think about blowing up Heaven, nor does he think he can solve the problem by just spraying disinfectant all over Heaven.
PS: I’m getting food again today. The new manor I acquired is very nice. No other reason, just want to show off. 】
……
Regarding how to effectively prevent Earth from being contaminated by falling angels, Ian himself couldn’t come up with any useful methods, but he still trusted Batman as always.
Batman always found a solution.
“Click-clack~ Click-clack~”
The typing on the half-broken mobile phone continued.
Seeing this scene.
Crowley did not stop him.
He just leaned forward uneasily, “You didn’t mention who I am or where I am in your text message, did you?”
Regarding Ian’s text message.
Crowley found it difficult to “peek.”
He only saw scattered fragments.
Ian continued to fiddle with his phone without looking up: “No.”
“Whoosh—”
Crowley leaned back onto the sofa, completely relaxed.
The genuine leather made a farting sound.
“That’s good. I don’t want to be targeted by Batman; that guy is more famous in Hell than Superman.” He took out a crumpled handkerchief and wiped some sweat.
It’s unclear if this was due to the skin he was using.
Or if he just liked to wipe sweat.
“What do you mean by that? Superman is not as good as Batman?”
Ian looked up, displeased.
His golden eyes were quite resentful.
“I mean Superman will definitely go to Heaven, so what interaction will he have with Hell in the future? But Batman is different.” Crowley made a downward gesture with exaggerated movements.
“Everyone is betting now how many years it will take for Batman to become a Lord of Hell after he goes to Hell.” His words were full of information and demonstrated the demons’ meager entertainment activities.
“So that’s how it is. That makes sense. According to relativity, if Old Man goes to Heaven, Batman will definitely go to Hell.” Ian instantly understood his meaning.
He thought Crowley might actually be right.
It wasn’t that he thought his Uncle Bruce was evil.
It was mainly because, compared to Crowley, Ian knew some higher-dimensional information—in this world, going to Heaven or Hell wasn’t solely based on merit.
The allegiance to Heaven and Hell.
Ultimately depended on one’s own judgment of oneself.
Just as God gave angels self-affirmation, God also granted humans the right to self-choice. Therefore, it’s understandable that Batman, who has always known himself to be the Dark Knight, would find it very difficult to ascend to Heaven.
He knows he fights evil with evil.
Of course, it’s also possible that Heaven might make an exception for Batman, to prevent him from wreaking havoc in Hell, but that’s assuming Heaven can maintain its purity.
“If the angels are contaminated, Heaven will be affected too, right?” Ian looked at Crowley, hoping to glean more information from the Demon King.
Regarding this.
Crowley was happy to respond.
“Except for God himself, no one can affect Heaven.” He didn’t even mention Lucifer; his firm stance made Ian glance at him a few extra times.
Ian didn’t really agree with this response.
However, he did not refute it.
It was normal, after all, Crowley was only an acquired demon, with a slight difference from an innate demon. His understanding might even be inferior to Ian’s on certain levels.
“Regardless, this is definitely a big deal.” Ian wanted to pray to Miss Death, and at that moment, a piercing ringtone shattered the atmosphere of the drawing-room.
It was Crowley’s mobile phone.
The ringtone was actually the classic ringtone of Wayne Enterprises.
The one with copyright.
This was undoubtedly another technological product from Wayne Enterprises. He watched Crowley fumble to pull out the custom-made phone, adorned with many diamonds and gold trim, from the inner pocket of his crumpled suit.
The screen clearly displayed 【Boss】. Ian was somewhat surprised, not by the caller, but by his inability to comprehend Crowley’s situation.
On one hand, he feared Batman.
On the other hand, he used Wayne Enterprises’ products.
And it was all Wayne Enterprises technology.
Is this demon truly tired of not having enough surveillance on himself?
“My boss is calling, I need to report on my work.” Crowley straightened his suit and gave Ian an apologetic smile.
“Lucifer?”
Ian asked curiously.
Crowley nodded with a smile, exuding affability, and walked towards the outside of the drawing-room. Ian watched his retreating back, then looked at the other technological products in the room.
Wayne Enterprises’ intelligent climate control system, Wayne Security’s surveillance probes.
Hmm.
The speaker was also from a Wayne Group brand.
“As expected, a loyal Wayne fan.”
Ian sincerely exclaimed. He didn’t know if this was Crowley’s preemptive move to build rapport with Lord of Hell Bruce, or if he was deliberately exposing himself to Batman’s surveillance.
“Not provocation, but to save trouble?” Ian believed a demon who could gift him a manor would have such wisdom. He approached the crystal cage again as he pondered.
The human bone piano made no sound to mock Ian, who was left alone here.
A strange tranquility filled the air.
The boy’s fingertips gently tapped the semi-liquid barrier, producing faint “thump, thump” sounds, like some kind of harassment, continuously echoing in the dim room.
The angel Manny in the prison cage was trembling faintly.
The writhing beneath his skin grew more intense.
It was as if countless tiny insects were crawling through his veins. He was still unconscious, but his body trembled violently, and Ian didn’t know why.
Even if he stopped tapping.
The other’s trembling did not stop.
“What kind of dream is he having?”
Ian stared at the angel Manny’s constantly moving hands.
He dared not think further.
Just as he was observing the condition of the Plague Angel, on the other side, in the smallest restroom among the fifteen restrooms in the manor, Crowley was bowing and scraping to his mobile phone in a hundred square meter room.
“Yes, yes, Hell is operating smoothly, riots have decreased by 37%, it’s very, very stable.” His eyes suddenly lit up, “Really? Boss! Thank you so much!”
Crowley spoke with extreme excitement.
From the other end of the telephone, sounds of disco dancing could be heard.
“You deserve more power.”
Crowley’s plump body suddenly trembled.
An invisible force surged from the phone receiver, pouring into his body through his ear canal. As Lucifer spoke, Crowley’s aura and strength were rapidly increasing.
The suit of the demon’s proxy moved as if alive, his tie twisting like a living creature. He closed his eyes, feeling the surging new power within him—power personally bestowed by Lucifer.
“Wonderful.”
When Crowley opened his eyes again.
Lucifer had already hung up the telephone.
He saw a short-haired woman standing behind him in the mirror.
“Meg Mosley.”
Crowley’s smile didn’t change, staring at the voice in the mirror, he spoke cheerfully, “I remember you already completed your commission.”
This female demon was the one who brought Ian here.
“Who is that boy.”
The female demon’s red lips formed a straight line.
She still couldn’t forget the terrifying pressure Ian had given her.
“I don’t know.” Crowley turned on the gilded faucet, the water washing over his body that had just gained power. His hands were still trembling slightly with excitement.
What was enhanced was his essence.
Not this physical form.
Meg slammed her hand on the mirror, cracks spreading from her palm: “You’re lying! You gave him the manor!”
The sound of water stopped abruptly.
Crowley slowly withdrew a towel embroidered with the sigil of Hell.
“It seems I have a spy among my subordinates.”
The way he dried his hands was as elegant as if he were polishing an antique.
“Indeed, my decision was correct, they all must be killed.” Crowley was not angry, because the manor was no longer his, and he knew very well who would require compensation for the female demon’s actions.
A superhero with psoriasis.
This is the downside of not searching the internet.
“I have the right to know the answer!”
Meg’s scream caused the ceramic of the sink to crack.
“I truly don’t know.”
Crowley sighed.
“I only divined the boy.”
He gave his answer.
The female demon’s eyes turned pitch black.
“What did you see?”
The female demon stared intently at Crowley.
“The divination results?”
Crowley threw the used towel into the trash can.
A chewing sound immediately came from inside the can.
“I saw nothing.” He walked towards the door, then looked back at the female demon, “All my tarot cards turned into demon cards when I was performing the divination.”
His tone was filled with apprehension.
Meg frowned in confusion.
“Is some power interfering with your divination?!”
She didn’t quite believe this explanation.
Primarily because she knew the demon before her had proxy status.
“No, no, no, if only it were that simple.”
Crowley’s hand rested on the doorknob.
“In fact, this is a warning.”
Saying so.
The stout demon prepared to leave.
“Wait a moment!”
The female demon suddenly grabbed his arm. The next second, she was thrown against the wall like a rag doll, an invisible force pressing her tightly against the evil spirit wallpaper imprinted with pained faces.
“Did you forget?”
Crowley’s voice suddenly became extremely cold.
“A proxy king is still a king.”
His eyes turned crimson, his tone filled with oppressive force. Meg made a gurgling sound in her throat, and smoke began to rise from her skin: “You know very well… hidden beneath this manor…”
Just as the female demon was about to say something.
Rumble!
The entire manor suddenly shook violently.
Angelic shrieks pierced the air, like glass fragments scraping against eardrums. The female demon Meg struggled to slide off the wall, smoke still rising from her skin, burned by a powerful force.
“What’s happening?!”
She asked hoarsely.
Blood-red fingernails dug into the marble floor.
Crowley did not answer.
“The show is about to begin.”
His stout body pressed against the stained-glass window, his eyes wide with excitement. Outside the window, the sky was undergoing a terrifying distortion—the originally azure sky was torn open with a jagged rift, golden clouds and crimson shadows entangled and churned within, like the severed veins of a god.
It also seemed to signify.
Things that truly exist “in Heaven.”
Were about to fall into the mortal realm.
“Stop screaming! Stop it!”
At the same time.
In the living room.
Seeing the angel Manny continuously roaring and screaming, Ian also slammed hard on the transparent prison cage, but his attempts to stop it received no response from the angel Manny.
“Aaaahhhh~”
He was still screaming.
His mouth opened wider and wider.
The tones rose and fell, the sound like thousands of choir children’s voices stretched, torn, and reassembled—a sacred melody mixed with the viscous sounds of flesh writhing.
Outside the window.
A blurred doorway flickered in and out of existence, its edges emitting an ominous golden light, like a burning wound, slowly opening, and the tones emitted from the black angel Manny’s mouth became even sharper.
He seemed to be… chanting some deformed holy song.
