After Papa Midnite calmed down, he quickly identified the problem. This woman was too calm. She ignored his sudden appearance, ignored the bloodstained knife in his hand, and even ignored his threatening posture.
Combining several factors, he reached an inevitable conclusion: this woman had brought him here.
To the naked eye, she appeared extremely beautiful with outstanding presence. But when he probed with secret voodoo techniques, he was shocked. This person's magical power felt impossibly deep. In the current depleted environment, such a powerful spellcaster actually existed? Papa Midnite suspected she was using an illusion.
He couldn't see through it. Like humans unable to perceive gods, though both used magic power—setting combat strength aside—Thea's life level had already transcended these Earth spellcasters.
The transformation by divine power caused her to emit no magical signature, while this group of spellcasters, with their mortal flesh, looked like walking torches from an energy perspective.
Thin-skinned and vulnerable—one shot would drop them. That's what it meant. Constantine mocked people for picking up magic rings, sneered at those who found enchanted cloaks, but in truth he was envious. Otherwise, there wouldn't have been that incident trying to steal Shazam's magic power.
"Who are you? Tell the truth!" Papa Midnite felt uncomfortable under Thea's gaze, like she was examining a rare specimen. He pulled a small piece of air-dried human jawbone from his jacket, coordinating hand gestures. The sound he produced resembled a reptile's hiss, attempting to influence Thea's will.
Thea snorted contemptuously. She brainwashed people daily, planting suggestions left and right—she never expected someone would try to brainwash her.
"Look into my eyes, you demon mongrel." This guy had demon bloodline in him, though extremely diluted. Thea didn't want to waste words—she'd ask directly, then throw him back.
The Eye of Horus added no energy, just pure emotional impact. Her pale yellow eyes met Papa Midnite's tense gaze directly.
Voodoo failed instantly. The intense emotional impact was something even a demon hybrid couldn't withstand. No one was immune to fear. Countless nightmare scenarios flooded his mind, and Papa Midnite's willpower rapidly collapsed.
Just as Thea was about to speak, the trembling Papa Midnite pulled a charcoal-like small statue from his jacket. An ordinarily simple movement took a full half minute.
Thea could have stopped him, but wanting to see voodoo's wonders, she took no action.
Midnite tried to crush the statue directly, but his whole body shook like a leaf. He had no strength in his hands. Veins bulged on his forehead, his teeth chattered loudly, and gripping the statue with both hands, he used nearly all his strength before finally snapping it in half.
A faint pale-green breeze, invisible to ordinary eyes, wound around his body. Drenched in sweat, he finally escaped the nightmare of fear. However, the intense physical exertion left him unable to stand.
"Impressive method!" Thea's eyes brightened. He hadn't eliminated it or endured it head-on. Instead, he'd transferred his emotional energy away.
Considering the methods shared between voodoo and shamanism, Thea's mental impact had likely been shifted to somewhere like ancestral graves. Most people threw their fathers under the bus; this guy threw his ancestors.
"What do you want from me?" Papa Midnite became completely cooperative. After using his trump card and discovering that Thea sat calmly in her high-backed chair, still twirling a pen in her pale fingers—clearly not taking him seriously at all.
Normally, this attitude would have him calling his thugs to start swinging knives. But he couldn't gauge Thea's depth, and he was no fearless hero. He'd already decided: whatever this was about, he'd bow his head first.
"I want to ask about something. In the past few days, have you seen someone named Malcolm Merlyn?" Thea's attitude was excellent—even gentle—like when she'd comforted disaster victims in Metropolis.
This attitude nearly made Papa Midnite cough blood. He'd thought there was some great enmity and prepared to apologize. Turns out it was just for information? Teleportation and mental attacks, all for such a small matter? There was a phone in his bar—couldn't she have just called?
Unhappy inside, he dared not say it aloud. Having navigated between legal and illegal worlds for years, he was long past hotheaded reactions.
After thinking, he said, "I don't think I handled it personally. I need to go back and ask my subordinates."
Thea was accommodating. "Alright. I'll give you half an hour to help me ask. Thanks."
Polite words, but her actions weren't polite at all. Thea opened another portal behind him and pushed the sweat-soaked Midnite back through.
"What the hell?!" Papa Midnite saw countless spatial fragments flash before his eyes. In less than a tenth of a second, he left the bright, spacious office and returned to his gloomy basement. The only difference: before, he'd been sitting in a chair; now he was weak and leaning against a wall.
"Papa, you...?" The thug who'd been reporting earlier hadn't left, staring stupidly at the voodoo king who was invincible in his mind. Whoosh—gone. Whoosh—back again. Had the boss finally mastered some divine technique?
The lackey was dumbfounded, and Papa Midnite was stunned too. After a while, he finally realized he'd returned.
Nearly crying, he felt this basement full of blood smell, with wronged souls occasionally wailing, was familiar and comforting.
Fortunately, he was a magic practitioner, so he wouldn't dogmatically believe the previous scene was all a dream. Thinking it over, he'd heard of Malcolm Merlyn but never met him. He slapped his subordinates awake and ordered them to immediately investigate. Had this person come or not? What did he say? Time, place, people, purpose—ask everything clearly.
Papa Midnite worked in intelligence and had an excellent memory. After gathering information from his subordinates, he pondered the potential benefits of this incident, sitting alone in the basement waiting.
When the agreed half hour arrived, a deep-blue energy portal appeared before him. This time, Thea didn't rudely pull him through but instead made an inviting gesture.
Papa Midnite took a deep breath and calmly walked in.
He returned to that office. The previous middle-aged man had left to rest, leaving only Thea sitting alone.
"The savior of Metropolis, Dr. Queen? You don't look as frail as the newspapers report. You deceived the entire world—you're the most powerful spellcaster I've ever seen."
Papa Midnite made his living from intelligence. These days, Thea appeared daily in newspapers, magazines, and various media. Very few people didn't recognize her.
Before, Papa Midnite hadn't connected these two people at all. They existed on completely different levels—senators, presidents—those things were far removed from his world.