"Someone used a kind of sealing technique to stuff a demon core into an ordinary person's brain, thereby helping the Demon evade Heaven's detection."
Sephirot raised his hand and waved it again, tossing the shriveled mass of flesh imprinted with the strange pattern, along with Myers's mangled corpse, onto the floor.
As he spoke, he nudged the mechanical blood clot with his foot, displaying the weird pattern of the Ouroboros encircling the eyeball before the other party.
Constantine looked at the rotting corpse, the corner of his eye twitching violently as he forcefully suppressed the urge to curse.
"So there's a way to evade it like this."
Gabriel, who had been shutting himself away in the corner, suddenly interjected.
Sephirot glanced sideways at him.
After this Archangel had become an ordinary person, shedding that layer of divinity, his personality had instead become rather strange.
Constantine ignored Gabriel. He crouched down, picked up that Ouroboros pattern and studied it for a while, his brow tightly furrowed.
"This mark... looks very familiar."
Constantine stood up and walked toward the bookshelf piled with documents. "Give me some time, I need to look up some reference materials to verify."
Seeing that Sephirot remained where he was with no intention of leaving, Constantine asked skeptically, "The person's delivered, the thing's been handed over to me. Is there something else?"
"Of course."
Sephirot's gaze swept across the room.
"I'm borrowing your room for a bit. Had some gains recently, need an undisturbed place to sort things out."
He'd looked at many places along the way, but none were quite right.
The battle at the Psychiatric Hospital a few days ago hadn't frightened many people; instead, it had attracted crowds to visit the scene.
There were even religious believers shouting that the place was unholy ground, that God had sent down punishment.
The corroborating evidence was the Holy Light that had dispersed the dark clouds that night.
And the earthquake in the suburbs; the official warnings hadn't served as a deterrent, instead drawing in many out-of-town tourists.
So, Constantine's little cabin had become the venue he was considering for his bloodline breakthrough.
Constantine sensed something off, unable to shake the feeling that this guy was up to no good.
But he couldn't find any suitable reason to refuse someone who had just brought Angela back.
Constantine sighed helplessly, his face dark, and pointed toward a certain room.
The door locked from the inside.
The sounds of the outside world were immediately cut off, whether it was due to the renovation materials or Constantine's handiwork, he couldn't tell.
Sephirot felt a cool clarity wash over his brain, and even that groggy, muddled sensation from the days of unconsciousness after waking again had largely dissipated.
He sat quietly on the floor, finally having the time to carefully perceive his current physical condition.
His mind sank inward.
As if sensing that his consciousness was observing, a suppressed, strange hunger immediately surged within Sephirot's body.
But his stomach had no desire to eat whatsoever; rather, it felt more like every single cell, deep within, was craving nourishment that could allow them to transcend their current level.
"Ordinary material intake isn't even qualified?" Sephirot frowned slightly. Once the bloodline reached 20%, it actually required energy from a higher dimension to serve as the kindling to activate it.
Even a few more high-intensity battles would no longer allow him to advance further.
His mind stirred.
Three masses of Demonic Essence, each emitting a different aura, hovered silently before him.
[Regeneration], brimming with vigorous vitality; [Spirit], like a cluster of mist; and [magic], the system's grand reward, all suspended quietly in front of him.
Seeing the three essences, an uncontrollable, irresistible hunger arose within Sephirot's body.
It was like the feeling of a man who had walked the desert for three days laying eyes on an oasis.
Sephirot did not hesitate. He reached out and, one by one, stuffed the three essences into his mouth.
Buzz...
The essences dissolved the moment they entered his mouth, without any of the strange tastes he had imagined.
Sephirot grunted as three entirely distinct energies instantly dispersed throughout every part of his body, rampaging unchecked.
But very quickly, they were captured and absorbed by his blood, turning into the most fundamental nutrients to nourish his cells.
An immense pressure radiated outward with Sephirot at its center, as if the surrounding gravity had multiplied dozens of times in an instant.
The air grew viscous, and the ground cracked and crumbled into powder.
This heavy pressure ignored physical barriers entirely, seeping outward.
In the living room, Constantine, a magnifying glass in one hand and a book in the other, was comparing a piece of inscribed flesh on the desk.
The pack of cigarettes on the desk was suddenly crushed flat.
Constantine froze mid-motion, and the water glass at his hand abruptly exploded.
But strangely, the shards of the glass did not scatter everywhere; instead, as if pressed down by some immense weight, they clung tightly to the desk surface, faintly trembling.
"An earthquake?"
Angela, sitting on the sofa, instinctively crouched down, her face turning pale.
The entire living room groaned and creaked, as if it could fall apart at any moment.
"It's not an earthquake!"
Constantine instinctively tried to stand up, but this usually effortless action was terribly difficult today, as if he were carrying someone on his back.
Hunched over, he looked at the wooden floorboards beneath his feet, his pupils constricting.
He saw the defense spells he had painstakingly arranged throughout the room glowing faintly, beyond his control.
These runes, originally meant to ward against demons, were now beginning to emit black smoke.
After no more than a few seconds, they were burned into black scorch marks.
"What the hell is he doing in his room?! Giving birth to a Demogorgon?!"
Constantine gritted his teeth and cursed.
Once this scent leaked out, every Demon and angel in Los Santos would be drawn here.
Then this house, which he'd worked years to buy, would be doomed.
Huddled in the corner, Gabriel slowly raised his head.
A flicker of expression passed through his eyes.
Even stripped of his authority, his perception remained sharp.
"Save your strength, John."
Gabriel's voice was calm, his gaze penetrating the walls as if he could see Sephirot inside the room.
"The bloodline within him is undergoing sublimation. A true Demon God is being born right here."
"Those small fry in Los Santos; if they come, they won't even be enough for him to kill."
Inside the room.
Sephirot was completely oblivious to the commotion outside.
When the very last trace of essence power had been fully consumed by his cells, his heart suddenly gave a violent pound.
Thud!
The apartment's windows inexplicably burst, and the pedestrians below scrambled away, hands over their heads.
[Ding!]
[Three essence absorptions confirmed complete.]
[Current Demonic Bloodline awakening degree: 20%]
[Devil Trigger form acquired. Exclusive talent acquired.]
Sephirot opened his eyes, purple light flowing within them.
The hunger inside him had completely vanished, replaced by boundless, inexhaustible power!
This feeling of fullness even gave him the illusion that he could directly blow apart a four-winged angel and a Hell-level Lord.
He clenched his fist gently, and for a moment, he couldn't even sense the magic circulating within his body.
More precisely, magic no longer flowed within him; it had thoroughly fused into the cells in every part of his body.
Not only that, he could clearly feel that his body's vitality had become extraordinarily formidable.
If he could face Gabriel from a few days ago in his current state, with the Yamato in hand, he could absolutely hold his own in a direct confrontation.
Not like before, forced to passively take hits, relying on his bloodline to heal his wounds, until he finally exhausted his strength and passed out.
Moreover, he had a strong intuition...
Even if he lost a limb now, he could simply consume magic to completely reshape the lost limb.
Of course, intuition was intuition; he wasn't foolish enough to give himself a slash just to test that.
Taming his scattered thoughts, Sephirot slowly stood up.
Feeling the shackle that had been unlocked within him, his heart was difficult to calm.
Now, with just a thought, he could manifest that magnificent power belonging to the Power of Sparda.
(Translated by yourtl.app)