When Bul-Kathos arrived in this world, he shattered the Dark Soulstone with a single strike. If any trouble was to arise, it should have come from the Hell Lords trapped within—not from an angel like Auriel, who hadn't been present on Harrogath's Holy Mountain.
Yet the trace of Auriel's power lingering here was unmistakable.
Bul-Kathos fixed his gaze on Constantine, scrutinizing him.
"Hope? There's still hope in this world?" Constantine muttered, flexing his newly restored hand to test his body's condition.
For a man like him, hope was a luxury he could scarcely afford.
Though he prayed for its arrival with every scheme he wove.
"The aura's faint, but I'm not mistaken," Bul-Kathos said, his tone tinged with suspicion as he studied Constantine.
He paid no heed to the man's words. Constantine hadn't earned his approval, let alone his respect.
A man who'd split his own soul out of fear was, at his core, a coward.
Auriel always favored shielding the kind and helpless. Someone as morally ambiguous and broken as Constantine shouldn't have warranted her protection.
The ordinary humans around them—Melinda, Coulson, Hawkeye, Steve—stood silent, barely daring to breathe.
Faced with a figure radiating such overwhelming power, all they could do was stay quiet.
Bul-Kathos couldn't fathom why Constantine bore Auriel's essence.
"Bul-Kathos, you mean the Archangel of Hope?" Matthew rasped, dragging himself to his feet. His body trembled with hollow weakness.
Even a healing potion couldn't ease his exhaustion.
Yet, deep within, a spark of exhilaration flickered.
The eruption of his Nephalem bloodline had spurred rapid growth.
Though his chest bore vivid burns from the magma, and faint wisps of smoke rose from his skin, the air carried a hint of roasted meat.
Having glimpsed Bul-Kathos's life through the Holy Mountain's memories, Matthew wasn't entirely ignorant of the High Heavens.
"Auriel's power wouldn't appear here without reason," Bul-Kathos grumbled, his voice muffled.
Doubt crept into his judgment. The presence of Auriel's power was too strange, too inexplicable.
He needed to be certain.
"Hrah!"
A war cry erupted, and Bul-Kathos's aura surged.
It was a barbarian's habit to roar before unleashing power, though he could've acted without it.
The earth trembled as if a cataclysm had descended. Pebbles danced on the ground, and cracks spiderwebbed across the surface.
The war banner behind Bul-Kathos was a manifestation of his power, a symbol of his glory.
Now, as he tapped into his true strength, golden-red wings of light began to form at his back.
Wings of Valor!
In his battles with Imperius, Bul-Kathos had earned the recognition of Courage, though that brash, unyielding angel would never admit it.
These wings, born of Courage's essence, would let him confirm whether Auriel's power truly lingered.
The bond between the Archangels was closer than mortals could imagine, akin to siblings.
Like the seven Demon Lords of Hell.
Though Justice and Courage had clashed over humanity, their connection remained unbroken.
As the Wings of Valor manifested, Constantine's wounds healed faster, and Auriel's aura flared vividly.
"No mistake—it's Auriel's essence. But why?" Bul-Kathos said, puzzled, watching Constantine's severed limbs regrow.
Auriel, second only to Justice in her kindness toward humans, had no reason to be in this world.
"Could it be Angel?" Gabriel's shadowy form appeared behind Constantine, its wings restored.
Under Auriel's power, the angel's wounds—inflicted by Bul-Kathos—had nearly healed.
When its power shattered, Constantine had absorbed it, and that higher-order essence had made recovery possible.
"That girl?" Bul-Kathos recalled Angel's face, then shook his head.
When her holy light descended, there hadn't been the slightest trace of Auriel's presence.
"It's not her."
If Auriel had bestowed power on Angel, she wouldn't have hidden from Bul-Kathos.
He made his judgment, then seized Constantine by the neck and tore open a portal behind him.
He hurled the lucky bastard into the Elders' Sanctuary.
Constantine wasn't worthy of inheriting barbarian power. A fractured soul couldn't withstand the Holy Mountain's trials.
But the trace of Auriel's power on him demanded investigation.
So Bul-Kathos tossed him to the ancestors for safekeeping.
Auriel's presence might not be good news—it could herald immense trouble.
"If Auriel granted that girl her power, I would've sensed it," Bul-Kathos added.
The auras of the five Archangels and seven Demon Lords were unforgettable to him.
He'd even seen Malthael in his days as Wisdom, before he became Death.
If the Archangel of Hope was in this world, something far worse might follow.
The powers of angels and demons were always balanced.
Even if Malthael had claimed the Great Demon's power, he'd retain his Archangel stature.
Even as Death, he couldn't single-handedly disrupt the equilibrium between Heaven and Hell.
The Archangels and Demon Lords had never truly defeated one another. If Auriel alone had come to this world, something must be amiss in the other.
Bul-Kathos didn't believe Malthael, as Death, could overpower the seven Demon Lords.
The Dark Soulstone's destruction had freed them from their prison. Even if Malthael absorbed much of their power, they wouldn't perish.
Worse still, if Auriel wasn't alone—if she'd brought Demon Lords with her.
A single Archangel was stronger than lesser demons like Belial, but weaker than the three Prime Evils.
Only Courage, Justice, and the enigmatic Fate could stand toe-to-toe with the Prime Evils.
If Auriel was here, accompanied by some of Hell's seven, this world would soon mirror his own—a battleground of chaos.
As Constantine vanished into the Elders' Sanctuary, Bul-Kathos reined in his power.
The Wings of Valor and war banner faded from his back.
"What the hell is wrong with this world?" John Wick snapped, his voice thick with frustration.
He'd come for vengeance for his dog, then glimpsed hope for his wife's resurrection, only to fail at revenge and stumble into a reality-shattering ordeal.
(Chapter End)
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