The flying purple energy beam seemed to be intercepted by some mighty force, abruptly reversing direction in midair and shooting back toward Zatanna.
"Reverse-Speech Magic!" Zatanna was shocked. She had only just begun learning this spell and was still far from using it fluently. With her competitive nature, she spread her hands, attempting to reverse the spell once more. This was her family's signature technique, with many secrets unknown to outsiders—she refused to believe she was inferior to someone else.
"Go back!!"
Her momentum was excellent. The spellcasting, technique, and timing were all on point.
However, there was a fundamental difference in total magical power between her and Thea. At her peak, she might have been able to exchange a few moves with Thea—but right now, today, an enormous gulf separated them.
Her family's secret technique failed to reverse the spell. It couldn't even slow it down. The purple beam rushed unhesitatingly toward its original caster.
"Zee, get out of the way!" Constantine spat out his cigarette butt and leapt forward, making what he considered a heroic and manly diving save—though it would have been far more impressive if the two of them hadn't ended up covered in dust and dirt.
Seeing this, Thea couldn't help baring her teeth slightly. Zatanna's level was obvious at a glance, but Constantine was harder to judge. This wasn't because he was hiding his strength, but because the yellow trench coat he had obtained from Nick Necro completely blocked Thea's perception.
The trench coat was of extremely high quality. Judging by the aura lingering around it, it was unquestionably a high-tier magical artifact.
"What's this man's background? My pheromones can't control him at all?" Poison Ivy's voice reached Thea's ears.
Thea nodded. With resistance this absurdly high, it wasn't surprising that the coat could block Poison Ivy's control. She tilted her chin toward Mister E, who was still fighting Papa Midnite on the other side, signaling Poison Ivy to go assist there.
She herself watched Zatanna, who had been knocked completely dizzy by the flying tackle, and Constantine, who looked heroic but had deliberately avoided exposing his true capabilities.
Constantine's strength had always fluctuated wildly. At his strongest, he could seal a demon lord of Hell. At his weakest, he could be beaten senseless by street thugs or humiliated by prison guards. It was impossible to tell whether he was pretending or genuinely pathetic.
This time, Thea didn't use reverse-speech magic. Instead, relying purely on her own mana, she combined water, wind, and fire attributes into lightning, deliberately increasing the proportion of fire. The lightning was no longer the traditional bright blue, but a dim orange-red.
She lifted her finger and aimed remotely at the pair. The orange-red lightning plowed a deep trench into the ground as it shot toward them.
She deliberately reduced its speed while amplifying its ferocity. Thea still wanted to probe Constantine's limits.
Midway through its flight, the lightning split into three, sealing off every possible escape angle and attacking from three directions at once.
Seeing there was no way to evade, Constantine lightly stomped his left foot. A purple halo rose up, firmly enclosing the two of them. The orange-red lightning struck the halo—yet there was no violent energy clash, no dazzling display of light. Like hot water poured onto ice, all three lightning bolts vanished instantly.
"An octagonal layout, inscribed with runes symbolizing the sun, moon, and stars. This is the defensive array used by the 15th-century archmage John Dee to counter the Demon of Loss. Impressive response. Did you start drawing this array the moment you teleported in? Your sense of danger is excellent."
Thea casually commented on his magic array. Hearing her casually name its origin, Constantine's expression darkened slightly, though he still calmly pulled out another cigarette and lit it.
What he hadn't expected was that her next sentence would make his face change completely.
"You're Thomas Constantine's son? You look very much like your father."
Thea was practically glowing with delight. No wonder Deathstroke called everyone "kid"—playing the role of an elder felt amazing.
Constantine and Zatanna exchanged glances, both seeing the same question in each other's eyes: Who is this person?
"Who else in the world knows your family's reverse-speech magic? Have you taught it to anyone?" Constantine asked quietly.
Zatanna shook her head. "Father had a few friends who might know it, but I've definitely never taught it to anyone."
The two fell silent. Someone who knew Constantine's father, could use reverse-speech magic, and possessed mana as vast as the sea—the conclusion was obvious.
This was a legendary senior.
To deepen the impression, Thea casually recounted events from a hundred years ago.
"At the time, your grandfather died in battle at the Somme. I personally returned his remains to your father. When I first met your father, he wasn't even ten years old. Time really flies…"
Constantine took out three detection tools in succession. All of them confirmed the same result—everything she said was true. She hadn't lied even once. That made him slowly believe her. After all, for someone with immense magical power, living a hundred years was nothing unusual.
What Thea said wasn't false—it was just that she had been time traveling back then, and she never met Thomas again afterward. She simply omitted those details.
Under layers of subtle misdirection, Constantine developed the strong illusion that she was either a friend of his father or even his grandfather.
"You really knew my father?"
"That's right, kid. Tell your companion to stop. I'll explain everything to you later."
Thea radiated the demeanor of an old master.
Papa Midnite—who knew her true identity and had dealt with Constantine for years—heard the entire exchange and nearly burst out laughing. Constantine, who had scammed and conned people his entire life, was actually being fooled by someone else.
How could a billionaire like her possibly know Constantine's alcoholic father? The ages didn't match at all. Papa Midnite concluded that Thea's magical mastery had deceived Constantine's detection tools. Amused and unsettled at the same time, his respect for her deepened slightly—the seed planted by her suggestion spell finally began to sprout.
With Constantine and Zatanna stabilized, Thea finally turned her attention to Mister E. Besieged by Papa Midnite, Poison Ivy, and Thea together, the blind old man couldn't withstand a single exchange. They didn't even give him time to jump off the cliff before Poison Ivy's bizarre vines bound him tightly.
The vines dragged the blind old man in front of Thea. She spoke politely, her posture elegant.
"Actually, we came here today just to ask something. Do you know Malcolm Merlyn? Do you know who he last contacted, and where he disappeared?"
Her tone was courteous—but to Mister E, her words struck like thunder.
Damn it! You stormed into our home with such violence, and it turns out you were just here to ask for information?!
Mister E's empty eye sockets stared straight at Thea, filled with disbelief.
With his clairvoyant vision capable of seeing in all directions, he glanced toward the distance—at the Grand Alchemist's corpse, hacked into several pieces and lying in a pool of blood. A wave of genuine bitterness rose in his heart.
What a pointless death.
These vicious intruders weren't government agents clearing out dangerous organizations at all. They were just passing through. The Cult of the Cold Flame was famous—so they stopped by to ask for information.
And his old companion paid for it with his life.