The series of attacks had left him completely dazed. Forget Thea—if the President had been standing before him, he might not have recognized him either.
But half an hour was enough to calm down. The truth was horrifying, yet Thea was indeed someone he often saw in newspapers and on television.
He casually flipped through a few newspapers. Words like clever, resolute, calm in crisis, composed and steady—not half a word mentioned she was a supernatural ability user.
Papa Midnite burned the newspapers directly between his palms in frustration. All liars! The people in the newspapers were liars, the ones who wrote them were liars, and most infuriating—he'd believed it without the slightest doubt!
However, knowing Thea's true identity offered no help with his current predicament. As a Haitian illegal immigrant, he couldn't call the police to arrest a billionaire with enormous influence in politics, business, and the military. His ultimate fate would be a bloody battle with New York police on the streets, fighting until dawn.
After thinking it through repeatedly, he could only helplessly step through the portal and act as an obedient intelligence informant.
Still, before speaking, he deliberately pointed out Thea's identity, trying to salvage some disadvantage.
Thea remained completely indifferent. Quite a few people already knew her identity, and more would learn in the future. She'd never expected to hide it forever.
Someone like Papa Midnite, with no residence permit, no birth certificate, and no payment records, could never go to the media with a named report. Ordinary people and the magical world were separated by an artificial wall—there was nothing to worry about.
Seeing his words caused no psychological impact on Thea, Papa Midnite ran out of tricks and honestly told everything he knew.
"Croydon's Compass?" Thea clasped her hands together, thinking over the information Papa Midnite had provided.
The voodoo warlock didn't know how much Thea understood about this magical item, so he explained in a low voice. "The compass belonged to a scumbag named Angus Croydon back in the 1930s. This man was trash and eventually died in a sewer. But rumor has it his compass can find all magical items in the world. Most importantly, ordinary people can use it."
Papa Midnite spilled everything he knew. Thea felt the item was somewhat exaggerated. If it were truly that powerful, it wouldn't have belonged to some old mage who died on the streets.
"So you're saying Malcolm Merlyn was looking for this compass, and then he disappeared?"
"Yes. My intelligence only pinpointed the compass's location to Norway. After the transaction was completed, he left New York." Papa Midnite wanted to sound tougher, but his confidence was lacking, and by the end he became somewhat humble.
Malcolm really couldn't stay idle. Back when Thea had tricked him into tracing his roots, it was simply to avoid conflict between him and Green Arrow. She truly hadn't expected the old man actually had detective skills—relying on all sorts of messy clues, he'd forcibly stepped from the ordinary world into the magical one. Barring accidents, he was probably trapped in some small area.
Thea didn't sense any loss in her bloodline. Coupled with Malcolm's resourcefulness and agile skills, there should be no immediate danger—but if too much time passed, that was another story.
In the European magical world, the local overlord was the Cult of the Cold Flame.
It was a small sect jointly founded by four Archmages decades ago. Now, its doctrine had grown increasingly twisted, taking on cult-like characteristics.
The four founders were: Mister E, whom Thea had once observed from afar, who practiced eighteen different meditation methods daily and trained himself to exhaustion.
Zatanna Zatara's biological father, Grand Magician Giovanni Zatara. They claimed to be direct descendants of Da Vinci, but the old man had been dead for years, and Zatanna was touring the world performing magic shows.
The remaining two were Archmage Sargon and Alchemy Grandmaster Tannarak.
These people were nothing like Papa Midnite. They were all veterans who'd mastered magic for decades. Thea could spy on them remotely, but opening a portal and dragging someone out like she'd done to Midnite was impossible.
Voodoo excelled in strangeness over magic, but defense had always been its weak point. Papa Midnite being toyed with by Thea wasn't because he was weak—it was because Thea was strong.
Ultimately, magic was a systematic discipline. Offensive formations and defensive barriers were essential knowledge. Trying to grab someone from an enemy's heavily guarded lair, with who knew how many defensive barriers, was harder than a frontal assault.
Thea opened a portal for Papa Midnite. She didn't speak, but the meaning was clear—this no longer concerned him, and he could leave.
Unexpectedly, Midnite paused for a few seconds. "May I ask... where do you plan to look for him next?"
"Switzerland. I'll ask at the Cult of the Cold Flame headquarters," Thea said calmly, as if she weren't going to a cult's lair but simply visiting a neighbor.
Papa Midnite felt he was extremely clever. From Thea's tone, he could tell she had nothing to do with the Cold Flame. Judging by her domineering way of "asking questions," the probability of the two sides fighting was about ninety percent.
"Um... can I come with you? You might not know this, but the Cold Flame's current doctrine is to eradicate all magic users and collect all magical equipment."
Thea sized Papa Midnite up from head to toe. This intelligence broker had abundant magic power, only slightly inferior to Mister E and the others. By Thea's comparison, it was slightly lower than her magic level before absorbing the Amulet of Isis.
Though he'd trained for many years, if converted to ancient times when magic power was plentiful, it would only equal an ordinary mage who'd meditated for ten years. The only flaw was his magic power contained too many impurities. Each circulation placed burden on his body. Over time, practicing until suddenly dropping dead wasn't rare.
In combat, this manifested as lack of endurance. After releasing two big moves, he'd need rest. Without rest, circulating magic power could hurt him so badly he'd faint.
Papa Midnite waited uneasily for an answer. Unexpectedly, Thea changed the subject and asked another question.
"Are you willing to become my subordinate? Your body is full of hidden dangers. I can help you—and even let you advance further."
Thea felt this guy was, at minimum, a magic practitioner. Paired with Deathstroke, the two controlling the dark world's intelligence network wouldn't be difficult.
Like she'd done with Deathstroke, she tossed out an imitation Yellow Ring. Papa Midnite caught it reflexively.
"In two days, I'll lead a team to Switzerland. You can think it over. Wearing the ring allows communication. Of course, if you refuse, the ring will fly straight back to me." After saying this, Thea directly used a mage hand to toss him into the portal.
Two days...?
Sitting alone in the basement, Papa Midnite stared quietly at the ring in his hand.
Needless to say, this ring wasn't easy to wear. There were far too many ways in witchcraft to control others. Judging others by himself, he felt the price wouldn't be small.
His desire for power and concern for his life made him hesitate endlessly. Should he ignore Thea and continue living as he was, or take a gamble? Papa Midnite couldn't decide even by dawn.