Infinity: Kill your way through the movie world.

The Death Knight looked at Castio: "You're not saving the world, you're digging graves for all of humanity, and doing it very efficiently."

Castio's face completely lost its color.

He stared at the spot where the image had just appeared, his lips trembling, wanting to say something, but no sound came out.

The images were so realistic that he could smell the stench of the slime, hear the screams of the infected, and feel the excruciating pain of his body being torn apart by the explosion.

“The Castio we know,” Dean walked up to Castio and stared intently into his eyes, “would fight against all of Heaven to save a girl he didn’t even know; would willingly become a fallen angel to protect Sam; would stay in this human world he knows nothing about to save me, learning how to use a microwave, how to watch TV, how… to be a friend.”

Dean walked up to him, stopped two meters away.

“That Castio wouldn’t consider himself a god, because he’s seen gods, real gods or those who claim to be gods, and he knows that’s not a good example. He can make mistakes, he can be confused, he can not know what to do, but he would never… arbitrarily decide whose life or death.”

Sam also came over and stood next to Dean.

The wound on his left palm was still bleeding, but he ignored it and just looked at Castio: "You saved me, more than once, when I was being tortured by Lucifer, when I was about to give up, you pulled me back. Now it's our turn to pull you back."

Castio looked at them.

Looking at the determination in Dean's eyes and the trust in Sam's eyes, even though he had just been hurt by him, there was no hatred in Sam's eyes, only worry.

He looked down at his hands.

He could feel the lines beneath his skin writhing, and not only could he feel them, he could also 'hear' voices in his head—not hallucinations, but real, countless tiny voices whispering:
"Swallow..."

"expansion……"

"Reproduction..."

"Don't listen to them...they are obstacles...they are impurities...they need to be removed..."

The sound grew louder and clearer, as if countless mouths were speaking into his eardrums.

Castio closed his eyes.

When I opened my eyes again, tears streamed down my face.

"I think..." His voice broke, each word sounding like it was being torn from his throat, "I really can't control myself anymore."

The moment those words were spoken, a scream came from outside the warehouse.

It's a devil!
First came the twisting and deformation, mixed with the gurgling sound of boiling liquid, followed by the sounds of impact, the tearing of walls, and some kind of heavy, wet crawling sound.

Dean and Sam turned around at the same time.

In the direction of the warehouse door, there was a large hole in the wall, and a group of things were crawling outside the hole.

They were once low-ranking demons.

You can still see basic outlines such as twisted horns, sulfur-colored skin, and burning eyes.

However, their entire bodies are covered in pale yellow slime, which drips continuously, corroding holes in the ground.

Something was wriggling under the skin, making the body feel like a sac filled with maggots. The teeth grew longer and thinner, like needles, dripping corrosive saliva.

The number is at least ninety.

They did not attack immediately, but simply stood there, staring into the warehouse with inhuman eyes, staring at Castio.

Like waiting for an order, or being urged.

Dean drew his salt gun, and Sam gripped his hunting knife.

“They’re coming for you,” Dean said without turning his head. “The thing inside you senses your resistance and wants to correct you. It’s using these monsters to kill us, leaving you with no way out but to continue being a vessel.”

Before the words were even finished, the first mutant rushed in.

Dean fired.

The salt bomb blasted a large hole in its chest, but what gushed out was not blood, but a pale yellow viscous liquid.

The slime coalesced into tentacles as if it were alive, reaching for Dean. Dean dodged to the side, the tentacles brushing past his shoulder, instantly corroding his clothes and causing a burning pain in his skin.

Sam tackled the second one.

The hunting knife severed its arm, but the sap that gushed from the cut splashed onto his face.

Sam groaned as the slime corroded the skin, leaving charred marks. He swung his knife back and plunged it into the mutant's eye. The blade sank in, and he stirred it until the monster stopped moving.

The battle broke out completely.

More than ninety mutants poured into the warehouse from all directions.

Dean and Sam faced off back-to-back in the confined space, while the old man of death watched from the sidelines.

He was unwilling to actively interfere with death, and the monsters dared not approach him. As someone who had lived for 1 years and witnessed countless deaths, he was already used to what was happening before him.

No matter whose death it was, it could not affect his emotions.

Gunshots, the sound of blades cutting flesh, the roars of monsters, and the sizzling of corrosive slime blended into a symphony of death.

Castio was also entangled in the energy net.

He watched all of this, watching Dean charge into the densest horde of monsters to protect his area.

Sam was surrounded by three mutants, his arm was bitten through, and blood spurted out.

Instinctive reaction.

He raised his hand; the seal had long since expired, and the net was instantly broken.

A beam of energy shot out, dark purple with a pale yellow halo, striking a mutant that was about to pounce on Dean's back.

The energy beam pierced the monster's head, and the monster fell to the ground.

But the energy did not dissipate.

It continued forward, grazing Dean's right arm. Dean screamed as his right arm instantly went numb. It was the result of the infernal power corroding his arm, causing muscle necrosis, carbonization of the skin, and exposure of the bone beneath.

Castio froze.

He looked at his hand, at the energy beam still dissipating in the air, mixed with the corrosive power of Leviathan, and at Dean kneeling on the ground, pressing his left hand against the wound on his right arm, his face deathly pale.

“No…” Castio murmured, “No…I don’t want to…”

He tried to help, but accidentally injured Dean.

Dean looked up.

There was no anger, no blame, only a deep weariness.

He struggled to his feet and drew a knife from his waist with his left hand. It wasn't a demon hunter's knife, but an old angel's blade with cracks in the blade, but the blessing at its core was still shining.

He threw it at Castio.

The knife spun in the air and flew towards the bewildered angel.

“If you still want to do the right thing,” Dean’s voice was hoarse but clear, “use this to send back what you yourself released.”

Castio caught the hilt of the knife, gripped it, and looked down at his face reflected in the blade's sheen.

Exhaustion, fear, the lines undulating beneath his skin, and the guilt in his eyes that almost overwhelmed him.

Memories flooded back.

These were not false memories implanted by Leviathan; they were his real memories, belonging to Castio Miller.

The first time Dean met the Witcher, covered in blood, he stubbornly said, "I won't let you take him away."

"This is Dean, my friend, my good brother! I am Castio, the angel who protects humanity!" Castio slowly raised his head, his eyes once again filled with determination and compassion. (End of Chapter)