Max was about to teleport away with Zetsu when a voice cut through the air behind him.

“Wait.”

Constantine stood there, rubbing his forehead like he already regretted opening his mouth. Max halted mid-stride, Zetsu’s form shifting beside him.

“I’m going to regret this…” Constantine muttered, shaking his head. “What’s your name?”

“It’s Max,” he answered, tilting his head. “But you probably know me better as Tobi.”

Constantine gave a dry snort. “Oh. So it’s you.”

Max blinked. “So you do know me as Tobi?”

“Very few people don’t,” Constantine replied, lighting a cigarette with a flick of his lighter. “Even demons are aware of you. That little transformation stunt you pulled? Could be felt across the whole bloody planet. Quite the impression.”

Max shrugged. “It was temporary. I want it to be permanent now , and that’s where you come in.”

“You mean that’s where demons come in,” Constantine corrected, smoke curling from his lips.

“You could put it that way,” Max admitted. “See, I could just clean up topside… but the thing I plan to feed them to isn’t exactly small. So,will you assist me?”

Constantine studied him, brows drawn together. After a long silence, he sighed.

“…Let’s talk more at my house.”

—

House of Mystery , Later

Constantine lounged on a battered couch, boots on the table, cigarette between two fingers.

“So,” he began, “what did you mean about facing annihilation?”

Max’s face darkened. “I wish it were just annihilation. This world shouldn’t exist at all. It disrupts the balance of reality,and I’m at the center of it. So I’m the target.”

“And who’s doing the targeting?” Constantine asked, eyes narrowing.

“A cosmic entity called the Anti-Monitor,” Max replied. “He comes from the Anti-Matter Verse , He is the universe’s immune system. This world is a disease to it, so he intends to purge it. He’s already found me once… and killed me.”

Constantine sat up straighter. “You look pretty alive to me.”

“A favor saved me,” Max said simply. “From who? I can’t tell you.”

“And you think a demonic power-up is enough to fight something like that?” Constantine raised an eyebrow.

“Not enough, but I will need every advantage I can get.”

Constantine stared at him, weighing the madness. “…What you’re saying is absurd. Completely bonkers.” He took another drag, exhaling slowly. “But I’ll help you, under two conditions.”

Max nodded. “I’m listening.”

“First: a binding vow. You don’t summon or release any ancient demon or cosmic thing into this world.”

Max clicked his tongue. “Can’t agree to that. I’m planning to revive a mindless beast of destruction, and fuse with it. That’s how I’ll regain that transformation. Your condition defeats the purpose.”

Constantine scowled. “Then you ensure it doesn’t hurt anyone here , before sealing it away again.”

“Done,” Max said without hesitation.

“And the second condition: a favor. I’m not a running charity. If I’m sending you to Hell,I am getting something in return. Eventually.”

“Fine,” Max replied. “Is that all?”

“That’ll be all.”

Constantine clapped his hands together, a contract flaring into existence between them before fading into violet sparks.

“The vow is set. Break it, and the consequences will be… unpleasant. I won’t repeat my mistakes.”

Max narrowed his eyes. “Let’s hope you didn’t screw me over, Constantine. You’re famous for that.”

“You should worry less about me… and more about what waits you down there.” Constantine flicked ash into a tray. “Normally, a portal to Hell is child’s play for a bloke like me. But I’m popular down there , not in a good way. If I open a gate unprotected, half a legion will come charging out before you can say ‘demonic dogpile.’ So I need to place protections before I do that.So I’ll need a few days.”

“Take your time,” Max replied. “I have things to arrange before I depart.”

“We’ll find you again,” Max added, placing a hand on Zetsu’s shoulder. “Count on it.”

They vanished in a ripple of shadow, leaving the air cold in their wake.

Constantine stood, frowning at the spot they’d been and noticed something on the table. A strange dagger covered in kanji inscriptions. He picked it up, eyes narrowing.

“So this is how you’re going to find me… Better keep it safe, then.”

He slipped it into his coat as a purple, ethereal figure materialized , the consciousness of the House.

“Well?” Constantine asked. “Wha9t did you glean from him?”

“He is troubled,” the House replied. “The weight of a world rests on his shoulders. And what he spoke was true… at least, he believes it.”

“And the companion?”

“A single desire,” the House murmured. “To learn the truth.”

“And that is…?”

“It eludes me.”

Constantine took a long drag of his cigarette.

“I see.”

—-

Max and Zetsu appeared back inside Nanda Parbat,specifically, within Pain’s private chamber. The stern figure resting on the bed didn’t so much as flinch. Only Max and Zetsu had permission to enter his quarters at night.

“Umm… Boss,” Zetsu spoke first, voice low and uncharacteristically hesitant. “Were you serious about what you said? About that entity that wants to kill us all? Or were you just bluffing?”

Max’s shoulders slumped slightly, exhaustion weighing on every word.

“No, I wasn’t bluffing, Zetsu…” He exhaled. “I really wish I was. A lot of storms are coming our way,bigger than anything we’ve dealt with before. I’m not gonna lie… even I’m scared.” His eyes hardened. “But I’ll give it my all.”

He turned toward the shadowy figure of Zetsu.

“From now on, you’re on guard duty. Watch over Thena and Terra,especially Terra. I’ll be gone for a while. You’re not to show yourself, and you’re not allowed anywhere near the house. Understand?”

“Yes,” Zetsu replied immediately.

“Good. I’m going to get some sleep. It’s been a long day.” Max vanished into the darkness as soon as he finished speaking.

Zetsu lingered silently, a rare flicker of surprise echoing through him.

‘I never thought I’d hear Max admit he’s scared’…

A slow grin crept into his voice as he sank back into the shadows.

But at least things are about to get interesting…

Wayne Manor, Late Night

Bruce didn’t waste a second after the message came in.

“Master Damian has returned.”

Alfred’s voice had been calm as ever, but Bruce heard the relief beneath it. He had spent hours scouring Gotham—checking every lead, interrogating every source—his worry buried under the mask but no less real.

He didn’t even bother removing his suit. The Batmobile screeched to a halt beneath the manor, and Bruce took the elevator up with hurried, tense breaths. His cape swept behind him as he stormed through the hallway toward Damian’s room.

The door was closed. The lights were off.

Inside, Damian sat alone on his bed, calmly sharpening his sword in the darkness—like a soldier preparing for the next mission.

Bruce pushed the door open and flicked the lights on.

“Damian,” he said sharply. “Who were you with?”

Damian didn’t flinch. Didn’t even blink. His eyes met Bruce’s with that cold, inherited defiance.

“I went out,” he replied flatly.

“That’s not an answer.” Bruce stepped closer, the stress cracking into his tone. “You disappeared without telling anyone. You disabled every security system in the manor. I told you to stay put.”

Damian’s jaw tightened, anger boiling over.

“I am sick and tired of being treated like a child,” he snapped. “You refused to let me go with you,fine. I stayed. But you expect me to just sit here doing nothing, like a caged animal?”

He stood, gripping his sword like he needed the weight to stay grounded.

“I feel like a prisoner in my own home. Nothing I do is ever good enough for you. Every step I take, you’re right there breathing down my neck,or coming up with some week excuse to keep me out of the fight.”

His voice cracked with fury.

“But not anymore.”

He took a breath.

“I’ve found someone who sees my worth. Someone who’ll help me reclaim what belongs to me. And if I have to sell my soul to do it… then so be it.”

Bruce’s jaw tightened as he pulled off his cowl, revealing the man beneath the mask. He stepped closer until Damian could see the raw fear hidden behind his father’s stern gaze.

“Damian,” Bruce said quietly but firmly, “everything I do is for you. You may not see it now… but one day, you will.”

Damian’s expression didn’t soften. Not even a little.

“For now,” Bruce continued, “I need you to trust me. Tell me who you were meeting with.”

Damian let the silence stretch — just long enough to make it disrespectful. A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth.

“Figure it out yourself,” he said with icy sarcasm. “After all… you’re the Master Detective.”

He sheathed his sword and moved toward the door. Bruce didn’t try to stop him .

“You are being used, Damian.”

Damian froze. His hand hovered over the doorknob.

“And when they’re done with you,” Bruce added, every word the sound of a father terrified of losing his son, “they’ll discard you like a broken tool.”

Damian didn’t turn around. His voice dropped, cold and fragile.

“We’ll see about that.”

He opened the door and walked out, leaving Bruce alone in the sudden, suffocating quiet of the room.

The Dark Knight stood there ,feeling powerless.

End of Chapter

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