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SM/DC Chapter 113 : The Chained Demon
🕑 Added 2025-05-08 20:42:45 +0000 UTCJohn threw his arms up. “Yes, she did! She’s got a demon problem a big one. I was more than happy to lend a hand. Hell, I’ve wrangled worse than her dear old dad before.”
He jabbed a thumb toward Zatanna. “We came here to help. To keep her from losing control. And what does she do?”
Zatanna cut in, voice low but tense. “You already know why she did it.”
John rolled his eyes. “Yes, yes, I know.”
He cleared his throat dramatically, then dropped his voice into a near-perfect impression of Raven’s calm, emotionless tone.
“‘John, you might screw this up more than help, so please stay here while I try to fix this mess myself.’”
He crossed his arms, glaring at no one in particular. “I mean really? That’s gratitude for you. I’ve saved more souls than I’ve damned. Recently.”
Zatanna gave him a side-eye. “Debatable.”
Arthur, still processing, looked between the two. “So Raven locked you in here because… she didn’t think you’d be useful?”
“She didn’t trust him,” Zatanna corrected flatly.
“Alright stop Z,” John muttered.
“She trusted me until you opened your mouth.”
“I was being realistic!” John snapped. “You don’t go walking into Azarath or her dad’s realm half-blind and expect everything to go smoothly.”
“John,” Arthur said, stepping toward the sealed containment. “This… ‘realm of her father.’ You said something earlier. I want to know what you know.”
Constantine sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Right. So, Daddy Dearest Trigon, the bloody overgrown hell-lord his true body is still sealed somewhere in this dimension. But a part of his soul? That’s hiding away in his own realm. There’s a gateway to it, right here, somewhere in this lovely cursed temple.”
Kara looked around with disgust. “So Raven could be either here in Azarath… or inside his realm?”
John nodded grimly. “Yes, she can’t leave and go back to Earth. Not while Trigon isn’t fully contained. Which means he can’t use her as a full bridge to get to Earth. So she trapped herself in here trying to stop him doing just that. I get the reasoning, I really do. But she could’ve just asked me to leave instead of slapping a damn seal on my face!”
He gestured to the glowing magic still pulsing over his prison. “I mean, bloody hell. Consent, ever heard of it?”
Then he muttered, “At least back on Earth, the Bat should be able to handle Trigon’s little hellspawn infestation.”
Kara crossed her arms, frowning. “Well about that… Batman is out cold and most of the Justice League’s been possessed.”
John blinked. “Wait. What?”
Arthur answered for her. “It’s true. League members including Superman and Flash.”
John let out a groan. “Oh, brilliant. Possessed heavy-hitters. Just what we need.”
Arthur’s eyes narrowed, his voice cold and understanding all at once. “I see it now… the full picture.”
He looked toward the deeper halls. “Raven isolated herself. Cut ties with the world. She’s trying to fix this alone, truly seal Trigon again, from inside his own pit. Save the day by herself. But…”
Zatanna spoke softly, “We’re still here, Arthur. So she hasn’t succeeded yet.”
Arthur nodded once. “Then we’re not standing around anymore. We help her. Together.”
John perked up. “Right, then. Touching speech. Now can you please break this stupid seal or do I have to age here like a cursed wine bottle! I mean I could do it myself but she made sure I wouldn’t be able to use my..”
Before he could finish, Arthur flicked two fingers and Ruler’s Authority slammed John’s mouth shut with invisible force.
“MMH-MMH—!”
Zatanna raised an amused brow. “That’s a very useful spell.”
Arthur’s lips curled into a faint smirk. “I know.”
He raised his right hand. Power crackled along his palm like static lightning, shadows coiling around his body. With focused effort, he pushed the force outward, Ruler’s Authority latching onto the layered seal like invisible jaws.
The magic seal groaned and flared resisting at first before shattering with a concussive crack, releasing a wave of heat and violet light.
Zatanna stumbled forward, free at last, brushing her hair back. “Ugh. Finally.”
Arthur didn’t stop he turned towards John, pushing the magic toward the second sigil.
Another wave of force another crack, and Constantine was thrown slightly forward, coughing and wiping his mouth.
Arthur let go of the spell over his face.
John took a deep breath, grumbling. “Thanks for that. Real gentle.”
Arthur, unfazed, folded his arms across his chest. “You’re welcome.” His gaze narrowed. “Now John, you lead. You should know where she is. After all, you said she was your apprentice once.”
John shot him a dry glare, lighting a cigarette with a flick of his fingers. “In some forms of magic, yeah. Doesn’t mean I’ve got a bloody tracking spell embedded in her ribcage.”
He exhaled smoke, then turned, starting down the hallway with casual swagger, then suddenly paused. A thought struck.
He pivoted slowly, squinting at Arthur. “Wait a second... how the hell did you get here? Azarath’s not exactly on the bloody subway route.”
Arthur’s eyes flashed faintly, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “I have my ways.”
John squinted, suspicious. “Right. Your ways.” He took a long drag of his cigarette. “Cryptic bastard.”
Zatanna stepped forward, brushing ash off her sleeve. “We could try casting a..”
John held up a hand. “I know, Z. I know what to do.”
He reached into the inside pocket of his worn coat and pulled out a small, crimson-wrapped object thin as a shard, pulsing faintly with dark energy.
Arthur’s eyes followed the movement with quiet interest.
John muttered under his breath, lips moving fast in a rhythmic chant words that are foreign to him. The air tightened as a ripple of raw magical energy spread out from his fingertips.
John Constantine kept whispering a strange chant and then snapped the object in half.
A sharp crack echoed through the temple like a whip. The broken shard flared violently, then released a shimmering trail of violet-blue light an arcane path that spiraled through the air like a beckoning wisp.
Arthur’s brows raised. “You just broke something that belonged to her right ?”
John smirked, eyes flicking toward the magical trail. “Not quite. Wasn’t hers.”
He flicked the remains of the spell to the floor and crushed it under his boot. “It belonged to me, hard to explain what I can do but it’s just magic. Long story short..it’ll get us close.”
Arthur looked down the trail, already pulsing like a heartbeat through the darkness ahead.
He gave a nod. “Impressive.”
John puffed his cigarette again. “Damn right it is.”
Kara cracked her knuckles. “Then what are we waiting for?”
Arthur stepped into the path of light, shadows wrapping subtly around his boots.
“We follow it. And bringing her back.”
****
The shattered skyline of Azarath loomed behind them, towers cracked and half-swallowed by violet mist. The once-holy city in the heart of it all like a scar on the earth lay a massive arena, wide open beneath the dark sky.
Cracked stone pillars surrounded the field, and ancient glyphs glowed faintly beneath layers of rubble and ash. But all of that faded the moment they saw him.
There, bound in the center of the arena, stood Trigon.
He was monstrous even in stillness taller than the temple spires, six glowing red eyes set into his demonic face, arms restrained by shimmering violet chains of pure sealing magic. Ancient glyphs twisted across his body like brands of punishment. His body was bruised with containment magic, yet his presence alone was suffocating.
He was watching them.
“Bloody hell…” Constantine muttered, stepping forward with visible caution. “That’s the real deal, that’s the bastard’s real body.”
Kara’s eyes widened. “And he’s not asleep?”
Zatanna was pale. “This power… even though he’s chained..”
Arthur didn’t say a word. His eyes locked onto Trigon’s with sharp intensity. A second later, shadows spiraled around his arm like a cyclone, and with a crackle of blue lightning, the Demon King’s Longsword appeared in his hand its blade humming with fury.
“Arthur!” John took a step forward, hand raised. “Oi, stop! Don’t be stupid!”
But Arthur had already moved.
With one powerful swing, he unleashed a storming arc of lightning, a storm of energy roaring toward Trigon like divine judgment. The ground shook as the strike carved the air in two almost splitting reality itself as it hurled toward the demon lord.
It hit.
The flash lit up the sky.
The impact cracked the arena floor.
And when the smoke cleared… Trigon stood untouched.
The chains around him vibrated faintly, but his body? Unscathed.
He grinned.
A low, guttural chuckle rumbled from his chest. “The Shadow King...”
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