251-255

Chapter 251: Cody Thinks He Still Has Too Many Bottom Lines 

"All night, that dead child lay on the bed, eyes wide open, mouth agape. By the time I came to, a swarm of flies had found the corpse, and other insects were gathering too. I guess it was a rare feast for them." 

After finishing a cigarette, Lester flicked the butt onto the ground and stomped it out. "I lasted another day, but the voices in my head grew louder, clearer. John, I can't handle that demon alone. I'm losing it." 

Hearing this, Constantine sighed, "Great, so that's why you came to me. I really regret having a friend like you—" 

"I need your help, John," Lester emphasized. "I even mugged a tourist for his passport and sold it for a plane ticket." 

Chas frowned at this. "You left that boy's body to rot in the house, and you might have even killed a passerby?" 

"Mugged, just mugged," Lester stressed again. "At most, he lost his ID, but in a place like Tangier, you can still survive without identification." 

"Really?" Cody raised an eyebrow. "Then how did he buy a plane ticket back home?" 

"That's his problem. Anyway—" Lester continued, "I went to Heathrow Airport. I'd been strung out for days, cold, with goosebumps all over, but the border agent didn't even glance at me. I guess that was the demon's luck." 

At this point, he actually seemed to get angry. "I held on because I knew Constantine would have a way. But when I showed up, you weren't even here, were you, you idiot!" 

"Yes, yes, friend, calm down," Constantine soothed. "I'm back now, aren't I? Don't be angry, keep going." 

"You should've come back sooner, even one day earlier," Lester fumed. "This morning, I got here, tricked Mrs. M into opening the door, got into your room, and waited for you, but you never showed up. I had to go out to find some drugs to clear my head." 

"But?" 

"But I couldn't find any drugs, and then this thing started bothering me again." 

--- 

Lester clutched his head, his face contorted in despair and pain, as if the buzzing demonic voice was ringing in his skull again. "It kept talking and singing, endlessly. It promised me freedom, promised to free me from the fear and pain of withdrawal—if only I'd give it freedom too." 

"I was almost going crazy, and then suddenly, insects started flying at me inside the room. At first, only two or three, then five or six, then dozens, hundreds!" 

"I'm about to break, Constantine, I'm about to break! That thing wants to kill me. If I delay any longer, I'll die from being eaten by thousands of bugs—can you imagine being surrounded by hundreds of mosquitoes?" 

Constantine looked at the dense marks all over Lester's body and shrugged at his old friend. "Not hundreds, at most a few dozen." 

"Damn it, anyway, that old lady said you were in America, and I remembered you had a girlfriend there, Emma—so I asked her to mail the package with the bottle to her." 

He muttered, "Constantine always knows what to do, Constantine will know." 

Seeing that Lester's confession ended there, Cody took the hat off his head and put it back on his jacket. He'd always known Constantine's friends lacked moral boundaries, but he never expected Lester to be so utterly irresponsible. 

The child's death already infuriated him, but at least that could be attributed to the demon's temptation. The tourist's passport being stolen was an emergency measure, perhaps. But directly mailing such a terrifying demon to his friend in a package—rather than "trusting his friend to solve it," it felt more like "let the chips fall where they may, someone else will deal with the mess." 

His survival instinct trumped everything. He knew the sinister package might never reach its destination, and he knew Constantine might be powerless against that evil spirit, but he did it anyway because it meant he would live—even if his actions might lead to the death of others. 

"Typical of Constantine's friends," Cody shook his head. "Their way of doing things is exactly the same." 

"Don't you dare slander me," Constantine immediately retorted. "I'm much better than this useless junk. I don't do drugs—I know how to deal with this clown. Kick him in the rear, throw him out of the house, then take a nap." 

Cody stared wide-eyed at Constantine. 

Unexpectedly, Chas, who had been a man of few words, immediately responded, "Emm, I can take him away and, uh... dump him somewhere." 

Cody's eyes widened further. He looked at Chas again. 

"Are you guys talking about your friend, right?" he confirmed. "And are you sure you're exorcists, not gangsters?" 

In front of Constantine, Cody suddenly felt that his own methods of doing things had always been too principled. 

"Forget it, there are too many damn problems," Constantine sighed. "If we leave this kind of thing alone, it'll just cause more trouble. Actually, according to old Ma, it's already caused trouble, and we need to fix it—Chas, get some paper and a pen. Lester, listen to me, you'll be able to rest soon, but first, you need to draw that child—his face, tattoos, bones, everything." 

Cody sat by, watching Lester sketch on paper with a pencil. In a moment, the image of an African child with a large skull, sunken cheekbones, a big mouth, and a large nose took shape under his hand. The patterns and tattoos on his face were truly dizzying—it was hard to imagine the heartbreaking pain a child would endure with so many cuts on their face. 

"Good drawing, Lester. I told you you should have finished art school instead of becoming a quack with a bit of magic," Constantine said, satisfied, as he took the drawing. "Now, you can sleep." 

Chas, standing by, shrugged. "So, my task is done?" 

"About that..." A mischievous grin spread across Constantine's face. "Sorry, old friend, you'd better go get three days' worth of food, cigarettes, and adult magazines—you're on babysitting duty here." 

"But I..." 

"Don't look at me." Seeing Chas look his way, Cody immediately deflected. "You know, I paid him to look into this for me. I'm not planning on staying here waiting for news." 

"Buddy, you're the best," Constantine chuckled. 

"You owe me for this." 

Chapter 252: Junior Special Energy Affinity 

After finishing his instructions, Constantine turned to Cody. "What about you? We're leaving tomorrow morning. Do you have a place to stay?" 

"I've got money," Cody replied, waving his hand. "Do you know any hotels nearby? I'll just stay there." 

"Alright, I'll take you." 

Downstairs at the hotel, Cody declined Constantine's invitation to dinner. He'd long heard about the legendary figure's indiscriminate tastes. From what he understood, Constantine's narrow sexual preferences fell into three categories: men, women, and non-humans. 

Cody's definition of him was: if it's a living humanoid with eyes, he might go for it—of course, if it has a male organ but no eyes, that's fine too, as long as it's good-looking, there's no one Constantine wouldn't dare sleep with. 

If this guy were reincarnated into the Warhammer universe, he could easily be named a Slaanesh Champion. 

"Alright..." Seeing his invitation rejected, Constantine sighed with a hint of regret. "Could I borrow your hat for a bit of research? It's the first time I've seen an artifact of this type." 

"Can anything in your hands ever get away?" Cody chuckled. "Given your reputation, I wouldn't even dare to think about an equivalent exchange, because you're a top-notch expert at fooling people." 

"Can't you give me a little trust?" 

"Oh, I absolutely believe your actions are exactly as the rumors say, and probably even more so." 

After parting ways with Constantine, Cody looked up information on "Nameless," but the entity didn't seem to be a documented demon with a name in any occult texts. This led Cody to conclude that the other party was a local evil spirit born in the human world—which meant it could unleash 100% of its power to wreak havoc. 

This was not good, very not good. 

That night, back home, Constantine didn't sleep. 

He sat quietly by the window, lighting another Silk Cut cigarette, watching the darkening streets and the bustling crowds and traffic. The dim streetlights cast a glow on his profile, revealing his dazed expression. 

He saw a girl with a spray can on the street. She was very pretty, and Constantine just kept staring at her graffiti from the window. 

Memories intertwined with the present reality, making him think of his girlfriend, Emma. She was on the other side of the world. 

Lester thought she was in America, but she wasn't there. 

She was dead. 

Constantine stared at the street, sitting all night, the light of his cigarettes flickering like fireflies, one after another, until the eastern sky began to lighten. 

The next morning, Cody received a call from Constantine—he was coming to pick him up. 

It was already past nine in the morning, and Cody was still Browse the store. After learning what kind of entity they were dealing with this time, he naturally had to find corresponding items. After all, fighting ordinary people, fighting metahumans, and fighting ghosts were slightly different. 

"Where are we going?" 

"To find an expert—an anthropologist, but he's also dabbled a bit in the occult," Constantine said casually, driving, flicking cigarette ash out the window with one hand. "He might be a little crazy, but his knowledge is very reliable." 

"Sounds good," Cody said, flipping through an occult book in his hands. 

Constantine glanced at the book in his hands and let out a disdainful chuckle. "Don't bother with that stuff, it's useless, just something to fool beginners. If you actually tried to deal with evil spirits using what's in there, you'd be waiting for your own funeral." 

"I know," Cody said, still flipping through the book. "I just want to see if there's any correct information in it at all, since it cost me a few hundred dollars back then." 

"Damn, your money's easy to earn." 

In reality, the "Starving Glutton" quest had already been completed the day before, after Cody heard Lester explain the situation. Cody had already gained Junior Occult Knowledge Mastery, including some basic occult common sense and the simplest magical rituals. At this point, he just wanted to confirm how much of a rip-off those three classic books he'd bought were. 

After driving for a while, Constantine suddenly spoke again. 

"Actually, buying fakes isn't all bad. You might not know it, but everyone in the magic circle knows how dangerous these things are. These aren't kids' toys; if a toy is shoddy, you might just lose some money, but people outside the magic circle should pray they never come across a real magic book in their lives." 

"Your advice is probably too late," Cody replied. "I already know quite a bit of real occult knowledge, and I can't unlearn it." 

After a pause, he continued, "But I'm well aware that one should maintain reverence in the face of the mystical. I never intend to accept gifts with unclear price tags." 

Constantine gave Cody a deep look. 

"Smart," he said. "Magic and miracles are never free—but if not magic, what about your hood and candy?" 

"Oh, they're not really magic; they're more like rules," Cody replied. "In other words, they're 'magic with clear price tags.'" 

"Magic with clear price tags—I've been in this business for so many years and I've never heard of such a good thing." 

Constantine stopped there, but in his mind, he was thinking that people who sign contracts with devils also believe those contracts have clear price tags, but in reality, a devil's parchment always has more than one layer. 

He had a vague suspicion that this man in front of him seemed unharmed, but perhaps he just hadn't paid the real price yet—much like Zatanna, one of Constantine's old ritualist friends, known as the master of backwards magic. 

Cody didn't notice Constantine's thoughts at the moment; he was looking at his quest panel. 

[Ding] 

[You have a new odd job available, please check it] 

[Tracing the Roots] 

[Quest Description: No one expected that this disaster spreading through London actually originated from a scumbag friend in Tangier. To have such a five-star citizen who constantly thinks of his homeland is truly a blessing for Great Britain.] 

[Note: The standard procedure for a mystery drama is one question leading to another. Although the answer to the first question is clear, more questions have popped up—where did this boy come from? Who injected the evil spirit into his body using this method? What was the reason for doing so?] 

[Status: Pending (0%)] 

[Reward: Junior Special Energy Affinity - Single Energy Type Restricted] 

This is great, the system's reward is great. Cody looked at the reward with satisfaction. If he wasn't mistaken, after finishing this odd job, he would unlock his "mana bar." 

[Junior Special Energy Affinity - Single Energy Type Restricted] 

[Price: $100,000] 

[Note: The source of energy lies in the bloodline, so don't ask why mana is unlocked instead of magical power—look on the bright side, at least you can be the first half-immortal in DC.] 

Chapter 253: Anglo-French Friendship Lasts Forever 

Screech! 

The piercing sound of brakes pulled Cody's attention from his system panel back to the street. He glanced at his phone, realizing it was already past ten in the morning, and the taxi had been driving for nearly half an hour. 

"Is London always this congested?" Cody sighed. "We've spent almost half our time stuck in traffic." 

"More than half," Constantine chuckled, correcting him. "And it's not always this bad—we're lucky it's not too busy this morning. Usually, it's even worse." 

"Six." 

"That's London for you, kid. Welcome to London." 

The two got out of the car and stood before a grand white building. A dozen massive Greek-style columns supported a beautiful triangular pediment. Just from its appearance, you could tell the interior space must span tens of thousands of square meters. 

"So grand," Cody remarked. "What is this place?" 

Constantine sneered again. "The British Museum, mate. The Empire's treasury, where we keep all our spoils of war." 

Cody laughed too. "You mean the place where early Britain displayed its piratical behavior after plundering treasures from various countries?" 

"Exactly." 

Constantine walked inside. "This is our England, mate. Egyptian mummies and steles, sculptures from the Parthenon in Athens, ancient Roman vases, Daoist figures, Yuan Dynasty blue-and-white porcelain, ten volumes of the Yongle Encyclopedia... Ever seen Indiana Jones? These are the proud achievements of so-called adventurers in various countries—though, on that note, the French aren't far behind. When it comes to being bandits, we're all equally professional." 

Cody smiled again. "Anglo-French friendship truly lasts forever..." 

The two walked into the museum. According to Constantine, his friend was inside. Cody, meanwhile, suppressed his irritation along the way, silently cursing England. 

In the office, they met the old scholar, who was well past fifty. He held Constantine's drawing, examining it for a long time, murmuring in wonder. 

"Professor?" Constantine prompted. "Have you found anything?" 

"This drawing is very unusual and quite interesting—I have indeed seen something similar," he said, adjusting his glasses. "When I was in South Sudan, I saw similar tattoos. And as far as I know, there's only one tribe there still performing such magical sacrifices." 

At this, Cody noticed the professor's choice of words. "Sacrifices?" 

"Yes, sacrifices." The professor nodded. "That tribe is a branch of the Dinka people, and these tattoos are specifically used for restraint or binding. This method can only be used on human flesh and blood. Because of this, it treats a person as a tool for casting spells, meaning that person naturally becomes the sacrifice—the shaman performing the ritual must be a master of nature magic." 

Nature magic? Cody secretly shook his head. While the name sounded "green," the powers of the Green and the Red showed no particular reaction to this symbol. 

After leaving the museum, Constantine turned to Cody. "Did you hear what the professor said?" 

"I did. What are you trying to say?" 

"We need to go to Africa. You'd better start getting your visa soon." 

"...You know, I've only ever been to two countries in my life. One is China, where I stayed for over twenty years, and the other is Gotham, where I spent about two years. Now, I've barely been in England for a few days, and I have to go to Africa." 

"Wait..." Constantine listened, then suddenly held up a hand, stopping Cody. "You said where you were originally from?" 

"China." 

"No, no, the one after that." 

"Gotham." 

"My word..." Constantine exclaimed. "Two years, you survived in that hellhole for two years, and you still care about 'morality' after coming out?" 

"Do you have an opinion?" 

"No opinion at all." 

Seeing Cody's disapproving gaze recede, Constantine continued. 

"Anyway, you're the one who wanted to investigate this, and now we have to go abroad to continue." Constantine lit a cigarette. "Or you can take Chas's place and babysit here, while he and I go to Africa?" 

"No, I'll go with you." Cody shook his head. "It's more reassuring to be personally involved in investigating things." 

"Alright, just remember to bring a sun hat." 

As Constantine spoke, he pulled out his phone and made a call. 

"Hello? Midnite? It's me, Constantine. I need something from you." 

Midnite? 

Cody vaguely recognized the name. It should be the alias of a middle-aged Black male sorcerer, a powerful one at that, who collected many magical artifacts. 

His nickname was Papa Midnite—Midnite referring to the overlapping point of 24:00 and 00:00, an impartial point in time, just like Midnite's own style: completely neutral, not actively participating in disputes, not favoring any faction. As for "Papa," that was his self-proclaimed title, considering himself a "daddy" figure among criminals. 

"No, no, I'm not joking. I'm serious—has anything strange happened recently?" 

"The restaurant thing? Okay, looks like the situation in London has been replicated in New York. Alright, well, say hello to your skulls for me." 

After hanging up, Constantine took a drag from his cigarette. 

"Don't know if all Haitian sorcerers are like that, no sense of humor—but at least Nomos hasn't picked a second victim yet, so we still have time to go investigate." 

The visa process wasn't difficult. Constantine constantly traveled the globe and had no issues with that. Cody had global identification, so he also had no problem—which greatly surprised Constantine. 

"So, you originally planned to travel the world?" he said, lighting a cigarette and smiling. "And you shipwrecked at the first stop?" 

"Doesn't matter. After this is resolved, I'll head back to Gotham for a bit." 

Chatting, the two got into a taxi. 

"Anyway, mate—first, we go to Africa to see what's going on." 

The taxi driver paused, then turned around and asked, "Where?" 

"Africa." 

"Mate, that might be a bit beyond my mileage..." 

The next day, a flight from London Airport landed in Sudan, Africa. 

The scorching sun baked the earth, and it baked Constantine and Cody as they walked across it. 

The desolate Gobi desert was nothing but sand and gravel, with rugged, strange rocks stretching across the horizon. Occasionally, a touch of green could be seen in the shadows of the rock crevices. 

"Perfect," Constantine said, wiping sweat from his face with a soaked towel. "Yesterday, I was freezing in London's crappy rain, and today I'm roasting in Africa. Life's just dandy, isn't it?" 

"Is it hot?" Cody, chewing on a watermelon slice, asked. "I don't feel it." 

Chapter 254: You Truly Love England Deeply 

"Wait, where did you get a watermelon from?" Constantine stared at Cody beside him, utterly bewildered. "Where did you pull such a huge thing out of?" 

"Does it matter?" Cody shrugged. "We've been walking for over two hours. To be honest, I'm fine, but I don't know if you can keep going." 

"Me? I'm just realizing that only mad dogs and Englishmen go out in the midday sun." 

"You truly love England deeply..." 

"Don't criticize me, kid." Constantine took a drag from his cigarette. "Noël Coward himself wrote those lyrics, and the old chap even won an Oscar." 

"That's interesting. What's the song called?" 

"Mad Dogs and Englishmen." 

"Putting that aside," Constantine turned to him, "why aren't you sweating at all?" 

"Well..." Cody tossed the eaten watermelon rind aside and pulled out a frosty, cold drink from his bag. "A cold drink. A few sips will keep you cool for fifty minutes. Want some?" 

[Cold Drink Price: 30 USD Asset Points. Note: I've told the guild before that the Zenny coin inflation is too severe; equipment costs tens of thousands, but they never listen. Look at this 1:10 exchange rate... ] 

"What kind of magic potion is this now?" Constantine frowned as he took the drink, then sniffed it. A faint coolness immediately filled his nostrils, refreshing him. 

"Are you so obsessed with magic you've gone mad?" Cody shook his head. "This is just a very effective summer drink." 

So Constantine took a few big gulps from the bottle. A wave of coolness spread through his body. The fiery sun above suddenly felt like the warm spring sun, and his body felt lighter. 

He smacked his lips contentedly. "I told you, modern technology is far better than magic." 

"Thanks for your business. Remember to pay me five hundred dollars when we get back." 

"?" 

"What's wrong? You've already drunk it, so of course, I can only sell it to you now." 

"Damn it, this better have a long shelf life..." 

The guide ahead suddenly turned his head and asked Cody, "Fifty? Five hundred?" 

"Five hundred dollars," Cody said. "If you're hot too, I can give you half a bottle—as long as you don't sell it." 

"Sell it, easy to sell," the guide continued. "Outsiders, afraid of the heat." 

Cody was speechless. This guide was too honest, practically spelling out "ripping off outsiders." 

"I just hope there are no guerrillas here..." Constantine sighed. "Hiring a guide, taking a plane, and renting a car—I've spent enough money already. If I get kidnapped on top of that, I'll lose everything I've earned on this trip." 

Cody thought to himself, no need to worry about guerrillas... 

The Village Shaman 

Three hours later, as dusk settled, the enormous red sun began to dip below the horizon of the desolate Gobi Desert, its color becoming as glaring and piercing as fresh blood. 

Crossing a hill, a settlement built of thatch and mud appeared before them. 

"Boss, we've reached the village." 

Constantine looked at this "village," which was really more of a "tribe." Dark-skinned, long-robed indigenous people moved about. They were skeletal, with cracked lips. Some children had very thin limbs but strangely bloated bellies. 

Cody whispered to Constantine, "What's going on here?" 

"Malnutrition. They're eating dirt, grass roots, and sand," Constantine replied. "The desertification here is severe, so they can't farm to survive. They'll eat anything they can find to fill their stomachs, but these things can't be digested. Also, too little protein leads to excess fluid in the abdomen." 

"Don't bother, I've been to Africa more than once, that's how I know all this. You can't help them. Every time I come here, I feel like an astronaut in another world." 

Cody remained silent. 

As the three walked into the settlement, the villagers didn't approach them. They watched the three uninvited guests in shirts silently and cautiously, as if indeed looking at people from another world. 

Constantine handed the portrait Lester had drawn to the guide, who then chattered to them in Dinka, but no one responded. 

However, Constantine noticed some people's eyes darting away, quickly glancing toward a small hill—where a thatch hut stood, separate from the rest of the settlement's buildings. 

Cody also noticed this detail. He exchanged a look with Constantine, then left the guide talking to the other villagers and secretly slipped away. 

The All-Knowing Elder 

As they tiptoed to the entrance of the thatch hut, Constantine was still thinking of observing the situation inside, but an old voice echoed from within: "Come in—I thought you'd be earlier." 

Cody saw a look of surprise in Constantine's eyes. They exchanged glances, then simply pushed aside the door curtain and walked in. 

"The entrails of a female goat showed that yesterday was when you should have arrived." 

Inside the dim thatch hut, a skeletal, dark-skinned old man sat cross-legged. The blood-red glow of the setting sun shone into the room, making his silhouette appear even more eerie and distorted. 

His head was shaved, with only hair remaining on the left and right sides. His skin was rough and loose, with cracked wrinkles and ravines covering his forehead and neck. He was naked except for armbands and a loincloth, and wore strange, large ornaments in his ears and an unknown bird's skull around his neck. His entire expression, in the strange light, seemed somewhat sinister, as he scrutinized the two men before him with a knowing smile. 

Constantine walked into the room, feigning nonchalance. "Is that so? Ha, no divination method is completely reliable these days, right?" 

Cody, curious, sat beside Constantine and examined the shamanistic old man. "Where did you learn English?" 

"Do you hear English?" The old man's smile grew even more bizarre. "But I'm not speaking English." 

"Pentecost," Constantine interjected. "According to the Gospels, the fiftieth day after Easter is Pentecost. On that day, the Holy Spirit descended, and priests could speak other languages—you're truly impressive. The United Nations needs talent like you." 

The old man didn't take his bait and continued, "I know, and you know, you are the laughing magician—I've seen you in my dreams." 

"Such destiny, truly?" 

At this point, Cody clapped his hands. "Friends, I understand you feel like old friends reunited, appreciating each other, but we need to talk about something serious. A child here was sealed with an evil spirit, and now that evil spirit is causing havoc in London." 

"Now, I just want to know, why did you do this?" 

Chapter 255: The Full Story 

"Is that so? Has the hungry spirit escaped again?" 

Hearing Cody's question, the shaman sighed deeply, a look of compassion appearing on his face. 

"The sacrifice was in vain..." 

Cody suddenly understood something when he heard the word "sacrifice." 

"I'm afraid so, old man," Constantine replied to the shaman. "It lured my friend, took it out of the child's body, and sealed it in a magic bottle—then, it got out." 

The priest turned to rummage through a cloth bag nearby, asking, "You must bind him again. Can you learn how?" 

"It's not impossible..." Constantine replied. "But I was planning to convince you to do it. I mean, you know how to seal him, and you've done it once. Why can't you personally—" 

"I can't." 

The old man shook his head, gripped Constantine's chin, and stuffed an unknown plant root he'd found in the cloth bag into his mouth. "My power is deeply connected to this land, but you're different. If you're strong enough, I can show you the whole story of this matter and the full scope of this ritual." 

Constantine looked a bit helpless. "I guess there's no other way, is there?" 

Cody took another root from the priest's hand. He, too, mimicked the other two, putting it in his mouth and chewing. 

--- 

A Painful Vision

As soon as the plant root touched his tongue, an intense bitterness spread. Cody felt almost half his tongue go completely numb from the bitterness, briefly losing sensation in his mouth. Once it reached his stomach, it began to churn violently from within. 

"God, it's like swallowing molten lava." 

Constantine's voice came from nearby. Cody instinctively looked over, but he couldn't see him—in fact, he suddenly couldn't distinguish anything in front of him. 

He felt his skull begin to tremble and churn, his brain boiling and running wild, finally breaking free of the skull and flesh, exploding and splashing in all directions. 

"Christ—I—hate—hallucinogens—" 

The voice in his ear was distant and ethereal. Cody couldn't distinguish who was speaking from the voice. He was almost unable to think now. 

A moment later, a figure suddenly appeared in his blurred vision. It was the old priest, his pupils now blood-red. One hand reached for his own eye, and the other reached for Cody—the speed was like lightning, impossible to avoid. 

Cody watched the thick, black palm expand infinitely in his vision, until his vision completely plunged into darkness. The pain at this moment was like the near-death experience in the Clown Theater, until three seconds later, the hand moved away—and took an eyeball with it. 

At the same time, his other hand also held one of his own scarlet eyes. 

It was strange; neither eyeball had any blood vessels attached or any blood on them, as if two ripe fruits had simply been picked from a tree. 

He pressed the scarlet eye into Cody's eye socket. In just an instant, a burning pain shot from his eye socket. The light of fresh blood permeated the eye, and a dazzling white light suddenly appeared in his blurred vision. 

The thoughts of the three began to race, finally merging into that light, and everything before their eyes gradually became clear. 

"Why is ancient magic always so painful—" 

Constantine couldn't help but groan in pain. It was clear he wasn't new to this ancient and primitive magic. After his vision returned, Cody saw corpses before him. 

There were children, there were elders, all with dark skin, shriveled flesh, and empty bellies, with only a flicker of light remaining in their eyes. 

Red-eyed flies swarmed, drawn by the smell of flesh, enjoying a thick soup of death and disease, baked by the scorching sun, greedily drawing the meager moisture from the corpses' eyes. 

This was the day the hungry spirit was born. 

--- 

### The Shaman's Sacrifice 

"Suffering is silent, famine is voiceless, yet these all accuse me." 

The old priest's voice came from Cody's mouth. It was then that he realized he was seeing the elder's past memories through his eyes. Skeletal figures stood before him, looking silently, with pleading in their eyes. In that instant, Cody truly thought they were looking at him. 

"They begged me for protection, but their fear and hunger gave Nameless power—he fed on them; the weaker they were, the stronger he became." 

As the priest narrated, the scene before them began to change. Cody's body moved involuntarily. He stretched out a hand and pulled a small, thin child from the crowd. 

"They are all my children. I had to fight for them. I had to make a choice—a difficult choice." 

Cody was silent. 

He watched himself take the boy into the hut, tie him up, and then pull out a knife—everything was so real, as if he were doing it himself. 

The blade sliced off the tongue. The metallic smell of blood surged in his nostrils. Cody wanted to close his eyes, but he couldn't. This was only a memory, and he couldn't control his body within a memory. 

"I cut off his tongue so he couldn't curse us, his betraying people, and then began to call Nameless." 

A black smoke composed of mosquitoes and flies billowed from the ground, a million buzzing sounds deafening. Cody stretched out his hand, loudly calling to the evil spirit, luring it to possess the child's body. 

Then, the hungry spirit's hunger tormented the boy, devouring his flesh and blood. 

The boy's eyes bulged with pain, desperate groans escaped his mouth, his limbs twitched, struggling frantically, but to no avail. 

Cody held the dripping knife, holding him down, and began to carve binding runes onto his skin. 

One cut after another, crimson blood flowed from the dark skin. Each cut was a bone-deep agony—for the boy, for the old priest, and for Cody. 

Despite the excruciating pain, the old priest's hand was incredibly steady. Two minutes later, he had finished carving the runes. Nameless was now completely trapped within the boy's body, unable to leave. 

He carried the unconscious boy out of the hut, walking step by step into the distance under the scorching sun. 

"I left him in the distant wilderness. I knew Nameless would consume him first, and when his flesh and blood withered, Nameless would have no choice but to consume himself, because that fellow could not escape from this body." 

"I left that wilderness. I did not look back." 

When the old priest's voice ceased, the illusion finally completely dissipated, returning to the thatch hut. 

Cody comfortably reached up and touched his face. His eyes were perfectly intact, only tears dampening his cheeks.