The cult hadn't scattered after Gotham. They had multiplied.
Oblivion moved through Blüdhaven's alleys at dusk, coat trailing behind him, eyes steady. His presence stirred whispers among the city's rats and night-walkers, though none could recall his face clearly afterward.
Symbols bled from the brick walls in fresh paint—red, jagged spirals meant to look ancient. They weren't. Amateurs copying designs they don't understand. But the hands guiding them… those hands know enough.
He found the trail beneath a burned-out church. Candles flickered along the cracked stone floor, the air thick with iron. A circle carved into the ground pulsed faintly.
Oblivion knelt, fingertips brushing the etching. Blood again. Different strain this time. Old. Preserved. They're trying to reach deeper planes.
"Funny seeing you down here."
He didn't need to turn. The voice was smoke and whiskey. Constantine.
The trench-coated mage leaned against the wall, cigarette already burning low. "You've been busy, Ghost. Gotham, now Blüdhaven. The world's getting small for a man who's supposed to be a rumor."
Oblivion's reply was calm. "If I wanted to be seen, you wouldn't see me."
Constantine smirked, blowing out smoke. "Fair point. So, what've we got? Another frost giant in the pipes, or something nastier?"
Oblivion didn't answer. He didn't need to. The ground trembled. The circle flared, and from the cracks rose a shape not entirely bound by flesh—horned, skeletal wings dragging ash through the air. Its body writhed, torn between smoke and solid matter.
Constantine cursed, already reaching for a spell. "Bloody perfect. It's an Ebon Revenant. Can't kill the bastards. They keep coming back unless you cage 'em."
Oblivion's eyes sharpened. Revenants… shadow-anchors. Weak to binding, not destruction. The cult didn't summon it—they freed it.
The monster roared, voice like shattering glass. "Ghost… your cage broke. The world remembers."
Oblivion's blades whispered free. His gaze was calm, expressionless. "So does the cage-maker."
It lunged, wings tearing through stone. Constantine threw wards, sparks of green and gold scattering across the chamber, but the revenant slipped through like mist. Its claws raked toward him.
Oblivion intercepted, blades crossing. The impact rattled the room, but he held firm. His movements were sharp, deliberate, aimed not at killing but at steering the fight.
He thought as he fought. Anchor's in the ribcage. Runes across the spine. It wants to reform outside the body—it must be sealed before the bones collapse.
Steel flashed. One blade cut through the revenant's chest, black ichor spilling like smoke. The other slashed across its wing, breaking a rune mid-glow. The creature shrieked, recoiling.
Constantine stared, grimacing. "You've done this before."
Oblivion didn't respond. He pressed forward, strike after strike aimed at symbols no ordinary eye could see. Each rune cracked, each scream sharper than the last.
The revenant reared back, its body unraveling into shadows. For a moment, Constantine thought Oblivion had destroyed it. But the ghostlike man simply lowered his blade, voice flat:
"It will reform in minutes."
Constantine blinked. "So cage it."
Oblivion's gaze flicked to the symbols lining the floor. Crude, but workable. He drove both blades into the stone, carving through the circle, altering the sigils with precise cuts. His hands moved with the confidence of someone who had done this for centuries.
The revenant lunged again, claws wide. Oblivion finished the carving in a single strike. The circle ignited, fire and shadow twining together. The revenant froze mid-attack, body locking as chains of light wrapped it, dragging it screaming into the seal.
Silence fell. The only sound was Constantine flicking his lighter. "You make it look easy, mate."
Oblivion wiped his blades clean, sheathing them. "It isn't."
Before Constantine could respond, the chamber doors burst inward. Light flooded in—green, blue, red. The Justice League.
Superman floated ahead, scanning the circle with narrowed eyes. "What happened here?"
Batman's gaze flicked between Constantine and Oblivion. "Cults. Summonings. Revenants. And him."
Lantern frowned, arms crossed. "So what, he cages demons while we're busy cleaning up after the last one?"
Constantine smirked. "Better at it than you'd think. Saved your skins again."
Oblivion didn't look at them. He studied the fading circle, his expression calm but his thoughts sharp. This isn't random. Cults don't stumble across revenants by accident. Someone is pushing pieces. Someone who knows me.
From the shadows at the chamber's edge, a whisper lingered. A voice not carried by the demon, not by Constantine, not by the League.
"Another ghost walks…"
Oblivion's eyes flickered. He said nothing, but in his chest, the old weight stirred. Her.
He turned, coat trailing, already walking past the League. Superman stepped forward. "Wait. You know what's happening. You can't just walk away."
Oblivion's reply was flat. "I can."
Batman's voice cut through. "But you won't. Because if this ties to you, you know it won't stop here."
For the first time, Oblivion paused. His eyes—death and charm, endless—met Batman's. "You're right."
Then he was gone, fading into the ruins like a shadow never meant to be caught.
The League stood in silence. Constantine broke it with a mutter. "Your boy's got more history with the dark than any of you realize. And if he's rattled…" He flicked ash to the ground. "…you're in deeper trouble than you think