"Welcome to the burn, demon," Constantine muttered, crouching down. He pulled a length of bandage from his pocket and tied it like a necktie around the demon's throat—assuming that was its throat. Then, he touched the glowing tip of his lighter to the end of the "tie." His movements were exaggerated, like a child lighting a firecracker and ready to bolt at any second.
He had treated this webbing beforehand; it was flammable and magically enhanced.
Whoosh!
Flame filled the corridor with a bright, sudden light. A faint, flowery scent mingled with the stench of burning demon flesh.
"What?" Spider-Man turned his head in disbelief, looking toward Helab.
Only now did he realize that Helab had stripped off almost all his gear and was bare-chested, relentlessly hammering the Maiden of Lust. While the movements were still violent, the targeting had shifted. It no longer looked like he was trying to kill her; there was something... unseemly about the display.
"You better hurry up then," Spider-Man said blankly, dodging a lashing tongue. "I don't want to be next. My mental health can't handle a 'group activity' like that."
Spider-Man still found demons hard to stomach. The inter-species aspect was a bit much. He webbed the long tongue that had just missed him to the wall. The Soul-Snatcher demon twisted its head, but its attempt to retract its tongue failed. In terms of raw strength, Spider-Man was no slouch—he was a Strength-hero in an Agility-hero's skin.
"I'm actually a bit curious, but I can't afford the 'life-force' payment plan," Constantine remarked. He pulled out a pair of scissors and snipped at the Soul-Snatcher's tongue.
Snap!
The scissors broke in two. Normal steel didn't work on demon tongues. Constantine's antics were almost slapstick.
"Guess a hydraulic cutter would've been better. Maybe I should start carrying one."
Constantine mumbled as he dug through his pockets and produced a few demon horns. He began to draw on the floor. A simple magic circle often required only the simplest methods.
"Whirr... ZAP!"
Constantine pulled his hand back just in time as a massive axe blade fell from a trap in the ceiling, scraping across the floor. The sharp edge sliced the cigarette in Constantine's mouth in half and severed the Soul-Snatcher's tongue.
Constantine looked up at the primitive trap and said airily, "Sorry, I didn't realize this was a non-smoking area."
"Hurry the hell up!" Spider-Man shouted. The Soul-Snatcher, now freed but with a bleeding stump of a tongue, had just swatted him away. He tumbled through the air, expertly shedding the momentum.
Soul-Snatchers were a pain to deal with, especially in cramped corridors.
"Done. It's finished."
Constantine strained as he pulled the severed half of the tongue, using the swinging trap to slice off a significant chunk. He tossed the "calamari" into the center of his scrawled magic circle.
Light flashed, and the tongue segment was instantly reduced to ash. During his time on Mount Arreat, Constantine hadn't just been idling like a vagrant; he had learned quite a bit—specifically, how to use demon body parts as ritual components.
A bolt of ghostly blue light shot out of the circle, flying toward the Maiden of Lust. It banked sharply and struck Helab right on the back of his head with a dull thud.
"Are you a demon spy or what, you jerk?!" Spider-Man yelled, webbing the Soul-Snatcher's mouth shut so it couldn't spit any more tongues at him. He couldn't understand why Constantine would attack their ally.
"If he can feel pain, he'll wake up. It's a natural bodily defense," Constantine explained, spitting out the remains of his cigarette and walking away from the fight. "Besides, I happen to know Barbarians have pretty mediocre magic resistance."
This place was too dangerous for a "sophisticated gentleman" like him. Regardless of his intent, he had still attacked Helab—specifically, the strike had left a bald patch on the back of Helab's head. It was quite ugly.
The moment he was hit, Helab's eyes snapped with pure, unadulterated rage. His aura flickered for a second before being sucked back into his body. He reached out, grabbed a heavy mace from a nearby weapon rack, and shoved it directly into the Maiden of Lust's mouth.
"I don't feel pain when I'm the one doing the hitting!" Helab growled. He used a haughty tone to cover his embarrassment, but he silently acknowledged the debt to Constantine. He was never a straightforward man.
Without pausing, he began to hammer the end of the mace like he was driving a nail into a board. The Maiden could no longer make those seductive whimpers.
"Maiden of Lust! Your charms were amusing, but now you're in trouble!"
Helab roared and stood up. He snatched a spear from the rack and drove it through the Maiden's chest, pinning her to the floor like a specimen. Then, he raised his heavy iron boot—one of the few pieces of armor he had left.
The boot crashed down, stomping right through her chest.
"Cluck... cluck!"
Blood sprayed from her mouth. With her breathing obstructed, that was the only sound she could make. Yet, on that mangled, unrecognizable face, a grotesque smile twitched.
Helab failed to notice that the wounds on his own fists weren't bleeding. Beneath his skin, a faint, purple light began to pulse.
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