Infinity: Kill your way through the movie world.

“I can feel it.” Castio touched his forehead. “There are… many doors here, and behind each door are many rooms, but they are all locked. Sometimes I see images in my dreams… a man in a trench coat,” he looked at Dean, “and a very tall man who always frowns,” he looked at Sam, “and… wings, white wings, but they’re broken.”

A hint of pain appeared on his face.

“Every time I try to see more clearly, my head hurts, like it’s being pricked with needles.”

Dean knelt down in front of him, looking him straight in the eye: "If I told you that those weren't dreams, but your real past, would you be willing to go back to them? Even if it might be painful."

Emmanuel remained silent for a long time.

He glanced at Dean, then at Sam, and finally his gaze returned to Wu Heng.

“That man in the trench coat,” he pointed to his head, “when he came to see me, he showed me a photo. It was of me, him, and another person, standing next to a black car. We were all smiling. When I looked at that photo, even though I couldn’t remember him, I felt a warm feeling in my heart.”

He paused.

"If those memories are all this warm, I'm willing to get them back, even if there's pain involved, because that's who I am."

Wu Heng nodded and stood up: "Then let's begin."

He walked back to the control panel and activated the array that had been prepared beforehand.

However, nothing happened.

A few seconds later, the lights in the medical room began to flicker as the light itself changed wavelengths, shifting from white to a soft, warm gold.

There was an inexplicable pressure gathering in the air, like the calm before a storm.

Then a voice resounded deep within everyone's hearts, gentle, aged, and carrying an indescribable... weariness.

"You're always in such a hurry."

Dean was jolted.

He had heard that voice before. In those instilled apocalyptic memories, in the arguments between Lucifer and Michael, the self-proclaimed 'Chuck Shulley' unfinished novelist was actually the incarnation of God.

Warm golden light gathered above Castio's head, forming a pillar of light that enveloped his entire body.

The cracks in the soul within the pillar of light began to heal, and the pale yellow residue was purified and evaporated.

Castio's body trembled slightly, his eyes were tightly closed, and his facial expressions kept changing: confusion, pain, realization, sadness, and finally, deep exhaustion.

The process lasted three minutes.

The beam of light dissipated.

Castio opened his eyes.

Those were still those blue eyes, but they were no longer empty. They held the weight of time, the depth of memory, and... everything that Castio Miller should have.

He looked at Dean, a faint but genuine smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“Dean,” he said in a hoarse voice, “did you get a new car? I remember the engine sound of that Impala, but this one is different.”

Dean froze, then burst into laughter—a relieved, almost choked laugh: “Damn it, you fucking came back.”

He felt a slight burning sensation in the corner of his eye and rubbed it subtly.

Castio tried to stand up, but his legs gave way and he almost fell. Sam quickly caught him.

“Thank you,” Castio said to Dean, then looked at Sam. “Thank you too. I… I remember everything, Leviathan, the ritual, and… all the wrong things I did.”

His expression darkened. "I killed people, many innocent people. I thought I was on trial, but actually I just... became a monster."

“That’s the effect of Leviathan,” Dean said. “Now we’re going to kill that thing. Do you need my help?”

Castio sensed the energy within his body: "Leviathan's power is less than one-tenth of what it used to be, but... I can sense it. Leviathan's energy trajectory is like a fish swimming in sewage; I can see it, and there is a slight connection between us."

He closed his eyes, opened them a few seconds later, and pointed to a point on the map.

"The energy is most concentrated here; this is the main nest. There are also seven other secondary nodes distributed in different directions. If only the main nest is destroyed, they will regenerate through the nodes."

Wu Heng immediately marked on the map: "Seven nodes, need to be attacked simultaneously. It seems that the previous plan needs to be redeployed and more demon hunters need to be sent out."

“Perhaps we can find some help,” Dean said, looking at the bottle of demon blood. “Crowley wants the stone tablet; we can trade for it.”

“You can’t trust the devil.” Sam frowned.

“But we can use each other.” Castio’s tone returned to its slightly clumsy but clear analytical mode. “Crowley unified Hell, but Leviathan refused to acknowledge his authority and even publicly insulted the forces of Hell as ‘outdated parasites.’ This is a conflict of interest that can be exploited.”

The plan quickly took shape.

Four hours later, in a run-down bar on the border between hell and earth.

The bar is called 'Last Breath' and its patrons include demons, fallen angels, wandering wizards, and all sorts of supernatural beings who don't want to be governed by any one side.

The air was filled with the smells of sulfur, cheap whiskey, and some indescribable fishy odor.

Dean, Sam, and Castio sat in the innermost booth.

Crowley was ten minutes late, but he finally appeared, still wearing his custom-made dark purple suit, holding an ebony cane, and his hair was neatly combed.

“The Winchester brothers, and… oh, look who this is.” Crowley sat down, sizing up Castio. “How does it feel to be an angel bathed by God himself? Doesn’t it feel like your soul has lost three pounds?”

Castio looked at him calmly: "We need demon blood, which you have provided. Now we need your army to attack all seven Leviathan nodes simultaneously."

Crowley smiled, picked up the glass the bartender brought him, and took a sip of the black liquid inside: "And the price?"

"The Divine Language Tablet," Dean said. "You can study it after the war, but you can't take it with you; it can only be done under the guild's supervision."

“Not enough.” Crowley shook his head. “I want the full right to use the stone tablet for three years, and all the assets left behind by Leviathan after the war, the infected human hosts, underground facilities, and research data, all belong to Hell.”

Sam slammed his fist on the table: "Those are people, not assets!"

“Humans infected by Leviathan for more than seventy-two hours are beyond saving.” Crowley’s smile was cold. “Their souls are either devoured or corrupted beyond purification. Rather than letting them live in agony as monsters, it’s better to let Hell reclaim them; at least some energy can be extracted.”

Dean grabbed Sam's arm, looked at Crowley, and said firmly, "No! Before we came, Lor told me something."

"What did you say?" Crowley's heart tightened upon hearing the name he didn't want to hear, yet he asked curiously.

"Either reach an agreement, or go to war!" Dean tried his best to mimic Wu Heng's tone, speaking calmly and indifferently.

Crowley froze, stared at him for a few seconds, then raised his glass: "Fuck, deal!"

He had just taken control of Hell and didn't want any more trouble, especially since that damned Witcher Guild Master had created a portal between Hell and the mortal realm and still controlled it.

They have the capability to attack his base at any time.

Dean and Sam could take it as a joke, but he knew that if it were that guy, he would definitely do what he said.

Thus, the alliance was formed. (End of Chapter)