Infinity: Kill your way through the movie world.

“We’re here to help you,” Sam said. “Casdeo, you’re not yourself. You’ve been influenced, you’ve been controlled.”

“Control?” Castio interrupted him. “Have you listened to those devilish lies from Crowley again? He said I was influenced by something…Leviathan? What a ridiculous excuse.”

But as he said this, his right hand unconsciously touched his chest. The movement was quick, almost subconscious, like a sudden pain in his heart.

Dean caught it.

“If it’s a lie, why are you trembling?” Dean took a step forward. “Why do you sometimes have a strange light in your eyes? Why do you kill people not with angelic power, but with… We’ve examined those murder and disappearance scenes, Castio, and that figure is you.”

Castio's expression froze.

His lips moved as if he wanted to say something, but he didn't.

For a fleeting moment, Dean saw the fear deep in his eyes, the struggle of 'I know something' but I can't admit it'.

But only for a moment.

The next second, Castio's eyes turned cold again.

“Go back.” His voice became calm again. “For the sake of the past, I won’t hurt you, but don’t interfere with my work anymore. This world needs cleaning, needs purification, and needs someone to do those dirty but necessary things. And that person is me.”

Dean did not back down.

He took another step forward and was now only eight meters away from Castio.

"What kind of job? Killing priests, killing politicians, killing people you think are guilty? Castio, do you know that among those you killed, one was a single mother? She stole to buy her daughter asthma medication, and another was a veteran who drank heavily because of PTSD, and beat his wife because the sounds of explosions from the battlefield were still echoing in his head."

“They are guilty,” Castio said, each word as cold as ice. “A guilty conscience is a guilty conscience, there are no excuses.”

"And what about you?" Sam suddenly asked. "What is your crime now? The crime of attacking a friend?"

Castio looked at Sam, and their eyes met in mid-air.

Then Castio raised his hand and simply pointed his index finger at Sam.

There was no light, no energy fluctuations, nothing at all.

But Sam suddenly knelt down.

He held his head in his hands and let out a suppressed groan squeezed from deep in his throat.

Cold sweat instantly broke out on his forehead, his face turned deathly pale, and his eyes began to move uncontrollably, his pupils dilating and contracting intermittently.

"Sam!" Dean rushed over.

But Sam did not respond.

He curled up on the ground, his body trembling violently, his fingers digging deep into his hair, his nails tearing out strands. He opened his eyes, but what he saw wasn't the warehouse, but something else entirely.
It was Lucifer's face; he was smiling.

"You can never escape me, Sam. You are a part of me, my vessel, my..."

The voice rang directly in my brain, bypassing my ears; each word carried the sulfurous smell of hell, searing my nerves.

“Look at your hands, Sam. Look at the blood. The blood you shed to protect humanity, but did it really protect us? People died. Dean died. Bobby died. Everyone died. And you…”

"You will live, with me. Forever." Lucifer's voice continued to ring out.

Sam screamed, his cries filled with anger, despair, and the howl of a trapped animal.

He sprang to his feet, looking around, but his eyes were unfocused. He saw Dean, but Dean's face overlapped with Lucifer's, twisted and distorted, like a scene from a nightmare. "No..." Sam stumbled backward, bumping into a pillar. "No, you're not really..."

“Sam, look at me!” Dean grabbed his shoulders. “It’s me, it’s Dean!”

But Sam can't hear.

What he saw was Lucifer reaching out to grab him and drag him back into his sealed cage.

Instinct took over his body; he needed weapons, he needed to fight back, he needed to prove that this was reality and not an illusion, and he also needed pain, because pain could bring him back to his senses.

His hand groped on the ground and found a piece of broken glass.

The glass edge was sharp, reflecting a faint light in the dim light, and then it slashed fiercely at his left palm.

The pain was sharp and real, with the warmth of gushing blood, like a knife cleaving through the fog of illusion. Lucifer's face disappeared, the warehouse became clear again, and Dean's anxious face magnified before his eyes.

Sam gasped for breath and looked down at his hands.

A deep, bone-revealing wound was visible on his palm. Blood dripped down his fingers, splattering dark red spots on the ground, but black energy permeated the area around the wound, indicating that it was healing rapidly.

He looked up at Castio.

Castio was still standing there, pointing in Sam's direction, but for the first time, a hint of... wavering appeared on his face.

He looked at Sam's bleeding hand, at the look in Sam's eyes that seemed to have just crawled back from hell, and his lips parted slightly, as if he wanted to say something.

"Is this your justice?" Sam spoke, his voice hoarse like sandpaper scraping. "Is this how you cleanse the world, driving your friend insane, making the demonic power he despises completely re-integrate into his body, and even causing him to self-destruct?"

Sam questioned.

“I…” Castio’s fingers drooped. “I just wanted you to understand the cost of resistance, to know the consequences of standing on the wrong side.”

"The wrong side?" Sam laughed, a laugh full of bitterness. "Casdio, tell me, what is right and what is wrong? You killed many people without a trial, without even a chance to defend yourself, and that's right? You crammed the illusion of Lucifer into my head, almost making me cut my own arteries, and that's right?"

He walked forward, leaving bloody footprints on the cement with each step.

"What's the difference between you and Raphael, and between you and those 'villains' you want to get rid of? At least they know they're doing bad things, at least they feel remorse. What about you? Do you think you're a god? Do you think you have the right to decide who should live and who should die?"

Castio took a step back.

It was a very small step, almost imperceptible, but he did indeed step back.

His gaze wavered; that cold calm was cracking, revealing the real, chaotic, and painful things beneath.

"I..." He said "I" again, but couldn't continue.

Because at that very moment, his body suddenly froze.

It wasn't a voluntary freeze; some external force forcibly took over. His eyes instantly turned pale gold, and dark lines appeared under his skin. The lines writhed like living things, spreading from his chest to his neck and then up his cheeks.

His expression shifted from wavering to blank, and then from blank to... a kind of inhuman indifference.

“Enough.” Castio’s voice changed, his tone lower. “These emotions, these hesitations, these weak bonds… are all impurities that need to be cleared away.”

He raised his hands.

This time, it's a real attack. (End of Chapter)