Why Everyone Hates Warlocks

The air in the room grew colder as the demon materialized. Abaddon stood towering and grotesque, with a hulking frame that seemed to absorb all the light around it. Its skin was a deep, ashen gray, covered in jagged scales that looked like shards of obsidian. Glowing red eyes, filled with malevolent intelligence, pierced through the darkness, and its maw opened to reveal rows of sharp, jagged teeth dripping with a viscous, black ichor. Massive, clawed hands hung at its sides, each finger tipped with talons that could rend steel.

Constantine felt his heart race, but he didn't let fear paralyze him. Instead, he gripped Murasame tighter, feeling an inexplicable familiarity with the sword in his hand. Purple and black lightning crackled around Constantine, enveloping him in a storm of energy. He moved with lightning-infused speed, teleporting across the room in bursts of movement that left afterimages in his wake.

He attacked with a flurry of strikes, each movement fluid and precise as if he had trained with Murasame all his life. He slashed at the demon, targeting its vital points with a speed and accuracy that would have overwhelmed any ordinary opponent. However, Abaddon was no ordinary foe. The demon's scales were like armor, the cuts from Murasame barely penetrating its thick hide.

Abaddon retaliated with brutal force, swinging its massive clawed hands at Constantine. Constantine teleported to dodge the attacks, reappearing behind the demon and striking again. Despite his efforts, the demon seemed almost impervious to his assaults, each strike causing only superficial wounds.

Constantine could feel his energy waning. He had spent too much aether in the ritual. The demon's strength was immense, and it seemed to shrug off his attacks as if they were mere annoyances. Abaddon turned to face Constantine, almost smiling. With a swift motion, it swung its arm, catching Constantine off guard and sending him crashing into the wall. Gasping for breath and coughing out blood, Constantine struggled to his feet. The demon advanced on him, each step shaking the ground. He had to think of something, and fast. Murasame hummed in his hand, the blade almost vibrating with energy. He knew he couldn't rely solely on brute force. He needed a plan.

Summoning every ounce of his strength, Constantine teleported behind the demon once more. He focused, channeling his remaining energy directly into Murasame. The blade began to glow with a fierce, dark light. With a yell, he thrust the sword into the demon's back, aiming for where he hoped its heart would be. Abaddon roared in pain, the first sign that Constantine had managed to hurt it. The demon staggered, and Constantine twisted the blade, trying to cause as much damage as possible. But Abaddon wasn't defeated yet. With a surge of strength, it flung Constantine away, the young Outcast crashing to the floor once more.

Breathing heavily, Constantine watched as the demon turned to face him, its wounds slowly closing. He knew he was running out of time and options. The demon was too strong, and his own strength was nearly spent. But he couldn't give up. Not with Jane's life on the line.

Constantine struggled to his feet, Murasame still clutched tightly in his hand. As he faced the towering demon, a flashback struck him; the old blacksmith reciting names as he forged Murasame resurfaced vividly in his mind.

'Ame-no-Habakiri, to cut the demons.'

The words echoed in his thoughts, resonating with the power he felt within Murasame. It was as if the blade itself was urging him to speak, to invoke its true potential. He knew he had to try, no matter the risk.

Drawing on every ounce of his remaining strength, Constantine infused his voice with aether and shouted, "Ame-no-Habakiri!", slashing the air diagonally with Murasame.

The effect was immediate and astounding. Murasame pulsed with an intense, dark light, and a powerful slash of energy erupted from the blade. The energy wave cleaved through the air with a thunderous roar, striking Abaddon in the chest. The demon howled in agony as the energy tore into its flesh, leaving a gaping, smoldering wound.

Constantine's heart pounded as he witnessed the demon stagger backward, clearly hurt by the powerful attack. But his victory was short-lived.

In the corner of his eye, Constantine saw Xander, who had remained unnoticed until now, starting to chant a spell. Arcane symbols flickered in the air around him as he gathered energy, intending to intervene and tip the scales back in the demon's favor.

Just as Xander's spell was about to reach its climax, a blur of movement interrupted him. Marcus appeared, his rapier gleaming with energy. He struck at Xander with lightning speed, forcing the mage to abandon his spell and defend himself.

"Stay out of this, warlock!" Marcus shouted, his voice filled with rage. He pressed his attack, pushing Xander back and preventing him from assisting the demon.

Constantine took a deep breath, feeling a surge of hope. He turned his focus back to Abaddon, who was still reeling from the energy slash. In a surprising twist, Murasame channeled energy back into him, revitalizing him a little. He looked at the sword, surprised; did it have its own energy? Was it sentient? He dismissed the thought and focused back on the fight, teleporting once again behind Abaddon. Abaddon roared as it turned around and swung its massive claws, but Constantine dodged and teleported with blinding speed, landing blow after blow. Each strike of Murasame was now empowered by the incantation, sending ripples of destructive energy through the demon's body.

As Marcus fought Xander, his aether almost depleted, he noticed the mage muttering an incantation under his breath. The air around Xander shimmered with dark energy. Before Marcus could react, Xander's body began to transform. His skin turned a mottled gray, and sharp horns erupted from his forehead. His eyes glowed a hellish red, and his muscles bulged with newfound power. Xander had used Partial Demonification, turning himself into a half-demon.

"Shit," he uttered under his breath.

Marcus, already fatigued from the earlier battle, found himself outmatched by Xander's enhanced strength and speed. Each blow from the half-demon was like a sledgehammer, forcing Marcus to retreat and defend with everything he had. Despite his skill and agility, it was clear he was being overwhelmed.

Constantine, still engaged with Abaddon, saw Marcus being driven back. He had to intervene. He couldn't let Marcus fall. Channeling the energy of Murasame once more, he remembered the technique he had used earlier. This time, he directed his focus towards Xander.

With a battle cry, Constantine infused his body with aether and invoked the power of the blade. Lightning crackled around him and his eyes turned a glowing purple. Before the half-demon could react, Constantine swung Murasame with all his might, targeting Xander.

"Ame-no-Habakiri!" he screamed.

The energy slash sliced through flesh and bone, delivering a mortal wound. Xander let out a guttural scream, dark blood pouring from the deep gash. The summoning spell he had cast began to unravel, its energy dissipating into the air. Seeing his chance, Constantine turned his attention back to the demon, who was visibly weakened from the unraveling summoning spell and the earlier wound. Teleporting in a flash, Constantine appeared right in front of the demon. With a decisive and powerful strike, he swung Murasame in a wide arc. The blade, now glowing with intense energy, met little resistance as it cleaved through Abaddon's neck. The demon's head separated from its body, and with a final roar, it disintegrated into black smoke, vanishing into the ether.

The room fell silent as the last echoes of battle faded. Constantine stood amidst the remnants of the intense confrontation, breathing heavily. He glanced back at Marcus, who had barely managed to hold his ground against Xander's onslaught. The half-demon lay dying, his transformation slowly reverting as life drained from his body. Suddenly, Constantine staggered and fell to his knees, the exhaustion and strain of the battle finally catching up to him. Blood trickled from a cut on his forehead, and his vision blurred. He fought to stay conscious, the adrenaline ebbing away and leaving him vulnerable.

Xander, though mortally wounded, saw an opportunity for a final act of vengeance. His eyes locked onto Constantine, and a sinister smile crept across his face. Muttering an incantation under his breath, he began to cast a spell, dark energy swirling around his remaining hand. He intended to take Constantine down with him in a mutual kill.

Before Xander could finish the spell, a gunshot echoed through the room. A bullet pierced Xander's skull, and he died instantly, the dark energy dissipating into nothingness. Darryl stood at the entrance, a smoking gun in his hand, his eyes cold and focused. Shift was right behind him, panting.

Darryl lowered his gun, looking at Xander's lifeless body with disdain. "That's why everyone hates warlocks," he said.