American comics: From Hogwarts to God on Earth

Nighttime, inside a church.

In the hall, a priest seemed to hear a noise. He picked up a flashlight and began to search the area. As he walked, he muttered something about calling the police. He carefully followed the sound and eventually discovered its source—the sound was coming from a secret passage beneath the church.

The priest was somewhat surprised. He carefully opened the partition. In the beam of his flashlight, strange symbols were painted on the descending steps. Looking at the symbols on the church's basement stairs, the priest warned that this was the dwelling place of the gods as he cautiously descended. Finally, he saw the intruder.

The intruder had sharp features and deep-set eyes that revealed a cunning and calm glint. His jawline was well-defined, but his dark hair was somewhat disheveled. Tall and slender, he wore his signature beige trench coat over a shirt, paired with jeans and Doc Martens. At this moment, he was slumped on the cold concrete floor, his legs bent and his body leaning slightly forward.

The man was anxiously smoking. His hands trembled as he pulled out a cigarette, quickly lit it, took a deep drag, and slowly exhaled smoke from his tense lips. His eyes were tense and wary, as if he had been greatly frightened, as if something extremely terrifying was chasing him.

The priest recognized him and seemed to have guessed something, but he still asked, "This is the Lord's territory. These random spells are blasphemy! You are doing what Satan does!"

However, the man lit several candles. He looked at the priest with a sneer: "Satan? The thing I'm hiding from now used to be Satan."

The priest was infuriated by this absurd remark and threatened to call the police. But the man calmly continued smoking. The priest sighed; he didn't think the man was a criminal, so he asked, "What's your name? And what are you hiding from?"

"My name is Constantine, Father." By candlelight, he found a bottle of wine, then unceremoniously opened it and drank it down. "I'm hiding from the devil... Yes, I believe in the devil. That's why I came here seeking refuge. You may not know, but that guy killed many people as soon as he arrived..."

The priest frowned, scrutinizing Constantine, but he couldn't tell if the man was a fraud or a madman. So, he continued, following Constantine's lead, "Then why are you so calm? Why don't you run away?"

"No, he's here for me, I know that..." He scratched his head, then continued, "No matter where I hide, it's no use, he'll follow me. I sacrificed several friends to get this information..."

Towards the end, Constantine became somewhat hysterical. His eyes widened, his expression contorted, and he was panting heavily. The priest was startled by his appearance. Seeing the priest back away, Constantine finally regained his composure, slumped back onto the ground, and gulped down a mouthful of wine.

"I'm sorry, Father, I always have mental breakdowns when I'm at my wit's end. I really don't know how to vent my emotions anymore."

"I'm sorry..." The priest was at a loss for words at the apology. He thought that having a drink might help, but watching Constantine gulp down the wine and then casually toss the empty bottle aside, he realized that the other man had probably already drunk a lot.

So he took out one of his treasured books, one of which had a cross on it. "Look at this, maybe it will help..."

"Come on!" Constantine waved his hand dismissively as he looked at the book. "This thing is too hard to even wipe my butt with."

The priest angrily rebuked, "These are the words of God!"

"Come on, it's been altered. Some guys have kept the real thing hidden for over a thousand years. Do you know how many people have edited or even tampered with its contents for their own selfish desires?" Constantine's mouth poured out the most terrifying words. The priest was about to say something when he was interrupted.

"Your predecessors suppressed dissent, feasting on the flesh and blood of those preachers. Those idiots couldn't even correct their ways; the two versions of Him are portrayed like two different gods," Constantine said dejectedly. "The church's bunch of useless trash aren't even worthy of licking my shoes!"

He picked up the book, threw it against the wall, and yelled, "No matter how miserable or terrible my life gets, I, Constantine, will never need this thing! Never!"

The priest was also frightened by his ferocity and didn't dare to say a word for a long time. Finally, Constantine sighed and said, "I'm sorry, I'm a bad person. I shouldn't have barged in in the middle of the night and made such a fuss about your faith... But I can't help it, alcohol... well, you can't use that as an excuse. Anyway, I'm very sorry, Father."

However, the priest looked away in surprise. "Those graffiti symbols... why are they glowing? Did you add fluorescent powder to them?"

Constantine's eyes widened. The partition rapidly decayed, and a man in a black suit descended step by step. The symbols on the stairs also turned to ash.

However, Constantine remained unusually calm as he watched the terrifying being searching for him.

The man clapped his hands and said, "Constantine, Constantine, I really like you so much. I must tell Him what you just said, and see how His favorite creation treats Him."

The priest on the other side looked at the man in horror and asked, "Who...who are you?"

"Who am I?" The man smiled, walked up to the priest, and patted him on the shoulder. "I am God's first creation, and also the first fallen being in the world. I was once Satan, and I commanded the devils. Tell me, who am I?"

But the priest had lost his ability to think rationally. The man's touch made him feel as if he were in a desert, parched with thirst. He quickly ran to a corner, grabbed a bottle of liquor, opened it, and tried to put it to his lips, but no matter what he did, the liquor wouldn't drip. So the priest frantically grabbed bottle after bottle of liquor, and after experiencing disappointment after disappointment, he collapsed to the ground, unable to get up again.

Constantine watched helplessly as a relatively kind priest frantically gulped down wine, nearly choking himself to death. When he tried to stop him, the newcomer grabbed his hand. The sensation was both icy and burning; the magic that should have flowed forth was like a tap turned off—not a single drop could be squeezed out.

"Speak, what do you want from me, you newcomer?"

"Help me find someone."

"name?"

"Zatanna..."