Chapter 609

About five minutes later, Constantine appeared outside Wayne Manor, greeted by butler Alfred, along with protective suits and disinfectant sprayers; Alfred, holding the disinfectant gun, sprayed Constantine for several minutes, and when Constantine stepped out of the thick white mist, he was drenched in the smell of disinfectant.

He coughed twice, waved his arm in front of his face, then walked into the manor's foyer, stopping about two meters away from Elsa and Dick—not because he wanted to stop, but because Alfred, having put down the disinfectant gun, had begun polishing his double-barreled shotgun.

Constantine was about to protest Alfred's attitude when he heard Elsa sing the eerie, ethereal melody; instantly, he looked up, raised his arms, and his hands glowed with magical light as he stared grimly at the ceiling.

The Green Gourd Immortal

Bruce also looked up, but saw nothing; he squinted, observing Constantine, whose eyes held faint glimmers, similar to the magical radiance on his hands.

Just as Constantine, face serious, prepared to cast a spell, his gaze suddenly dropped from the ceiling to Elsa's face; she opened her mouth—CRUNCH—and Constantine froze.

Throughout the entire process, the two acted like silent film actors performing for empty air; Bruce, Dick, and Alfred saw nothing.

Suddenly, Constantine straightened, lowered his hands, looked at Elsa, then at Bruce: "Your daughter… has she ever shown any abnormalities before?"

Bruce wanted to describe, but Elsa's entire life was abnormal—there was no normal moment at all; he had no starting point to describe.

"She might be like me, naturally attuned to magic—or perhaps she's also a cursed one, destined to deal with these strange things," Constantine said, the magical glow on his hands fading; he looked up at Wayne Manor's ceiling: "Long ago, I once unknowingly cast a demon-summoning spell, and then…"

He shook his head, refusing to describe what followed, but Bruce could imagine it; Bruce frowned but didn't ask: "You mean Elsa just summoned a demon?"

"No, it might be worse—something I've never seen before, a kind of dark creature… but…" Constantine stared at Elsa's vertical pupils: "They were all eaten—bit straight through the head, then swallowed whole…"

Elsa began shrieking again, babbling things like "So full!" and "So tasty!" Bruce picked her up, examined her repeatedly, found no wounds, no sudden change in temperament; he asked Constantine: "Can I see that creature?"

"You can't use magic, so you can't see it," Constantine wanted to refuse, but Bruce and Alfred kept staring at him; he waved his hand: "Fine, since you lent me money."

Constantine snapped his fingers; clusters of flame appeared before him; he swept his hand forward, the flames lined up in a straight row, then formed a circle in midair.

The flames "whooshed" to the ground, "whoosh!" they leapt upward, connecting point to point into a complex magical array; the instant the lines glowed, Bruce felt the world before him shift.

All furniture and walls twisted, emitting different hues of light, like the hallucinatory vision of someone poisoned by a psychedelic potion.

Bruce shook his head hard; when Elsa's song began again, it was no longer just a simple nursery rhyme—it carried now an ethereal, eerie cackling.

Suddenly, a piercing scream echoed; Bruce looked up and saw winged black creatures emerging from the twisted ceiling patterns, trying to land on Elsa's head and shoulders, only for her to snatch them down and shove them into her mouth.

The shrieks were deafening; in an instant, they shattered Bruce's illusion; when he looked down again, he saw only Elsa's innocent, guileless face.

He took a deep breath, steadied his composure, and asked Constantine: "Is this what your world looks like?"

"Not entirely—I only use this vision occasionally. What you just saw isn't an illusion; it's another real world, which we call the Spirit Realm."

"You must cast magic flawlessly within this world, without any disturbance—or you risk being permanently consumed by it."

"So what exactly is she singing? And what are those black creatures?" Constantine asked, equally puzzled; he took a step forward, then heard the sound of a shotgun being chambered; he stepped back two paces, raising his hands: "No, don't—don't point that gun at me. I won't get near her."

"It's a nursery rhyme," Bruce realized; the situation was beyond him alone. Fortunately, he wasn't yet the lone-wolf Riddler of the future; after a few calls, Constantine, Hal, and Shiler appeared in Wayne Manor's foyer.

These were the only people Bruce knew who wielded special energies, had experience with magic-like forces, and understood the occult.

Shiler picked up Elsa, used his gray mist vision to scan her, found nothing unusual; Hal's Green Lantern ring couldn't scan the Parallax creature, but he dutifully checked Dick anyway—the scan showed no effect on him.

"Let me think…" Shiler sat Elsa on the sofa, placed her aside, and stroked her hair: "I know Gotham's darkness and chaos aren't entirely due to its system."

"After all, Brudhaven, just nearby, shares the same institutions—and has none of these problems. That means Gotham must harbor some hidden mystical force."

"I've been wondering how they control this city. Rain alone isn't enough."

"Now it seems they've created a nursery rhyme—not just a simple song, but one infused with occult power, which is why, despite its difficult lyrics and complex melody, it spreads among children."

"Children who sing it may summon those dark creatures. But since most can't see the Spirit Realm Constantine describes, they're affected without realizing it."

"Even without investigation, it's obvious—those creatures aren't teaching kids to study. Their dark energy probably makes every child in Gotham more violent and evil."

"I can't even imagine," Hal concluded. "Don't they have any morals? How could they… target children…"

Hal loved children; during his trips between Gotham and the Green Lantern Corps headquarters, he occasionally visited the Hell's Kitchen Vocational School to teach them about airplanes.

At first, he struggled with their mischief and disobedience—but when he told stories of legendary pilots, the pure, yearning light in their eyes was unmistakable.

"I still believe every child has the potential to change," Hal said, patting Dick's head. "Their upbringing may be terrible, but with education, they'll improve—at least they won't get worse."

"But Gotham has never changed, not through generations," Bruce said, elbows on his knees, palm resting against his mouth: "Among all those generations, some did attend Gotham University, even went to top schools in other cities."

"Many returned to Gotham—but none brought any good change. Like a single drop returning to the river, they vanished without a trace."

"So to truly reduce crime, we must solve this first." Bruce's cheek muscles twitched slightly, giving him a cold, detached look; whenever he wore this expression, Shiler saw the shadow of the future, mature Batman.

"Elsa can eat those creatures," Constantine mused. "But if she sings and eats only one at a time, she won't finish off all of Gotham's darkness."

"Eat! Tasty! Elsa eat!" Elsa shrieked again; children her age got hungry fast—whether she ate human food or not, less than an hour had passed, and she was hungry again.

Watching Elsa prepare to sing again, Constantine raised his hand once more; flames fell. Hal dodged a flame and said: "Whoa, cool!"

Constantine smirked, about to speak—when Elsa's song began again.

In the Spirit Realm vision, Elsa's song carried a grating, teeth-grinding cackle, like some massive creature scraping its molars; Shiler listened closely—he recognized the sound. Wasn't this the same noise Parallax made when grinding its teeth?

No wonder Elsa could swallow one monster at a time. She's smaller now, with a smaller mouth—if she were still the original yellow Fear-Source Parallax, one bite wouldn't be enough for just one creature.

As the magical array activated, Shiler's vision shifted—but quickly stabilized, now tinted with a blue-gray filter; the Gray Mist said in his mind: "Detected alteration in visual nerve signals. Normal image restored."

Thus, Shiler could see the creatures' true forms more clearly than the others; while they saw only winged black mists, Shiler saw clearly—they were owls.

Not ordinary owls. These owls were nothing but skeletons, yet their feathers clung stubbornly to the bones; green flames burned in their eye sockets; black energy trails streamed behind their wings as they circled, emitting piercing cries—like human whispers of mockery.

Watching them circle toward Elsa, Shiler snorted, staring up at the creatures.

Slowly, he raised his umbrella; the energy he'd collected from Nal in the Marvel universe flowed from the Gray Mist, traveling along the umbrella to its tip.

Everyone's gaze turned to him; they saw Shiler sweep the umbrella upward, pointing at the owls, and shout:

"Expecto Patronum!"