Suburbs. Rooftop of a rundown apartment building.
This was Constantine's exorcism shack—his actual living space.
The second Soren reached the door, he caught a strong whiff of incense and sulfur.
Constantine pushed the door open and started to warn him about the runes on the floor, but Soren just strolled right in like he owned the place. He even curiously ground his shoe into the black-dog-blood trapping array drawn across the boards.
"You…"
Constantine stared at his painstakingly crafted protective formations, secretly shocked. Those arrays and the rare materials had cost him a fortune and a mountain of favors from Gypsy witches and veteran exorcists. They could hold back even high-ranking demons for a while.
Yet they did absolutely nothing to this guy who reeked of demonic energy.
"What?" Soren noticed his stare and tapped one of the skulls hanging on the wall. "These little party tricks of yours only work on pure-blooded demons anyway."
"Yeah, I've got demon blood in my veins, but deep down I still consider myself human. You're not gonna discriminate against me because of my bloodline, right? That's illegal."
Constantine didn't want to hear any more of this nonsense. Face dark, he walked over to the table, swept the clutter aside, and carefully unrolled a scroll of parchment.
The second it opened, a thick metallic smell of fresh blood flooded the room.
Soren stepped closer. It was a detailed map of the United States. What surprised him were the bright red blood droplets marking specific spots in almost every state and region—like they'd just been dripped there moments ago.
Only a tiny handful had already dried and turned black.
"This is something a friend of mine who specializes in necromancy made," Constantine said gravely. "She used her own blood as the medium. Cost her a heavy price. It's a spirit map."
He pointed at the red drops. "These marks roughly locate every monster and demon across the country. For example, that thing that went on a rampage in Poho County recently…"
"Stop." Soren cut him off. "Why are you telling me this? I only came for intel on the crazy woman job. I'm not here to save the world or keep America peaceful."
Soren knew Constantine too well—an old conman and professional bullshitter.
If you didn't keep control of the conversation, he'd have you wrapped around his finger in seconds.
Plus, the people around Constantine were dangerous: scheming angels, backstabbing demons, and eccentric black mages.
He only reached out for outside help when things had gotten completely out of control and he couldn't handle it alone.
And when he asked for backup, nine times out of ten he planned to use you as cannon fodder.
Soren had zero interest in getting dragged into some apocalyptic war between Heaven and Hell. His goals were simple: complete quests, earn points, awaken his bloodline, and pay off that mountain of debt.
"…"
Constantine felt exhausted.
He had this strange feeling that this kid—who he'd only met a few times—could see right through all his little schemes.
The boy probably even knew what color underwear he was wearing.
"Fine. Let's talk about the crazy woman. I call her the Slit-Mouthed Woman," Constantine sighed. "She's… extremely strange."
"I used some police connections to look into her background. Before she died, she was a fairly well-known model in Los Santos."
"Later, her jealous roommate cut up her mouth while she was sleeping, destroying her face. She had a mental breakdown and overdosed on pills."
Soren nodded for him to continue.
"Normally, a spirit with this much resentment could be dealt with using standard exorcism rites. But here's the problem."
"I've already tried multiple times. I even used holy water and magic circles to purify her. Yet every few days, she reappears and starts killing again."
Constantine's voice grew bitter.
For an experienced exorcist, there was nothing more frustrating than an enemy you couldn't kill.
After listening to the description, Soren thought for a moment and asked:
"Besides this unkillable Slit-Mouthed Woman, have there been any other similar incidents in Los Santos lately?"
"Yes," Constantine nodded immediately, brows tightly furrowed. "Recently there's been a little boy who appears on the highway outside the city, always hitchhiking at night."
"Drivers who kindly pick him up end up dying in car accidents. I've handled it too, but the result is the same as the Slit-Mouthed Woman—I can't kill him permanently."
He had already lit another cigarette and took a deep drag. "These things seem to follow their own rules. They only operate in their own small fixed areas, killing on repeat in an endless loop."
"So both of these vengeful spirits share one thing in common," Soren said suddenly. "They've both been dead for a long time?"
"How did you know that?"
Constantine was visibly startled. He had only learned through police contacts that the model had been dead for four or five years, and the boy had died in a car accident several years ago as well.
That confirmed it.
Soren's mind raced.
This was almost certainly the work of a voodoo priest known as Papa Midnight.
The man might be a sorcerer, but he was first and foremost a businessman who only cared about money.
He charged exorbitant fees to use voodoo rituals to temporarily summon the souls of the dead so wealthy clients or guilt-ridden family members could say their final goodbyes or settle wills.
But something had gone wrong. His necromancy had spiraled out of control and turned into some kind of forced resurrection curse.
The vengeful spirits he dragged back into the living world never returned to Hell or Heaven. Instead they became trapped at the exact location where they died, endlessly repeating the moment of their death like a broken videotape.
The reason a spell of this level had gone so badly wrong…
Soren's expression turned serious. The Darkness Is Coming?!
His previously lazy demeanor vanished. He pointed at the blood-covered map scroll on the table and asked directly:
"So what you were trying to tell me from the beginning was about the Darkness Is Coming?"
"What Darkness Is Coming?"
Constantine looked at him with genuine confusion, struggling to keep up with Soren's train of thought.
But seeing that Soren had finally taken interest in the bigger picture—and since he genuinely needed allies to share the burden—he decided to go along with it.
"I don't know what you mean by 'Darkness Is Coming.'"
"But what's happening right now is far more serious than that."
"Do you really think that brainless low-tier demon from earlier today could have crossed over so easily on its own?"
"Because the barrier between Hell and the human world has already been torn full of holes for a while now."