"I considered myself among the minority. I always was. But more than that, I was the Spectre who balanced the scales of cosmic justice… and soon… I would die."

The words that came out from the Spectre's mouth were rather disconcerting, and of all people, he chose to reveal himself and ask for help, it had just to be none other than John Constantine.

"You ain't inspiring confidence, mate," he combed his blonde hair in an attempt to hide his anxiety. "I didn't like involving myself with you capes, but you were one fucking exception. Your cosmic ass was about to be handed down, and ooh… I had to see that for myself."

Very recently, John's mind was in turmoil. He might have seemed like he was in a mood for joking, but that was his only way now to ease his worry. The Spectre was most likely saying the truth considering his ever-encompassing Cosmic Awareness that transcended reality.

"If you were so worried," taking a sip from a glass of margarita, John leaned back on the bar trying to look chill. "Why didn't you just hitch Dr. Fate? The guy sure packed a lot more firepower than I do, I admit… but I'd still beat him to a fight if it came to it."

Spectre replied, "Death comes to us all, Constantine… And I needed you to make a deal on behalf of all Life. I fear this might be the start of something infinitely irreversible."

The atmosphere in the dimly lit bar seemed to shift as Spectre's words hung in the air like an ominous prelude to a cosmic symphony. John Constantine, the chain-smoking, wise-cracking occultist, stared at the Spectre with a mix of skepticism and curiosity, his piercing blue eyes narrowing.

"Making deals, mate, that's what I do best," John replied, taking a long drag from his cigarette and exhaling a cloud of smoke. "But dealing with cosmic entities and the fate of all life? That's a bit out of my usual pay grade, you know? Wait, is this Darkseid with his Anti-Life shit again? Call Batman or Supes for that."

Spectre's eyes glowed with an ethereal light as he leaned in closer, his spectral form casting an otherworldly glow on the bar. "Constantine, you may be an unconventional ally, but the cosmic balance is at stake. I need someone who understands the shades of gray, the intricate dance between good and evil."

John raised an eyebrow, an amused smirk playing on his lips. "So, what's the grand plan, mate? Are we talking about preventing your imminent demise, or is this a 'save the universe' kind of deal? Because, you know, I've got a busy schedule of avoiding trouble and dodging my own death."

Spectre's response carried a gravity that echoed through the very fabric of existence. "I am bound by the laws of the cosmos. I act in ways that even I cannot prevent. I am a phenomenon more than man, god, or anything. Understand that soon, I will have to come to a confrontation with a kind of contradictory wickedness most refer to as Death, and when I do come face to face… with it… I will die."

John leaned back in his chair, the flicker of concern briefly replacing his nonchalant demeanor. "Alright, Spectre, let's say I agree to this cosmic babysitting job. What's in it for me? Eternal gratitude? A cosmic favor coupon? Because, as much as I like a good cosmic adventure, I'm not exactly eager to play babysitter to the universe… more than that, die."

Spectre's voice resonated with a sense of urgency. "There are few beings in the cosmos that can claim and represent Death… but this time, it is different. Others would look like pale imitation in its presence, and I assure you… When I say Death Personified, I mean it with all of my being."

John Constantine smirked, taking another sip of his margarita. "Well, mate, you've got yourself a deal. But don't think this makes us best pals. Moreover, you have to tell me more…"

---

"Let me begin with a story," Spectre hovered beside John who just teleported to their destination— a seemingly mundane forest.

Spectre continued on his storytelling with an air of mystery, weaving his tale as John looked around, taking in the surroundings of the mysterious forest.

"Long ago, in the vast expanse of the multiverse, there existed a being of unimaginable power and malevolence. A force so formidable that it threatened the very fabric of reality itself."

John was curious, "What force are you talking about?"

Spectre pausing for effect waved his hand as if conjuring illusory visuals to aid his storytelling, and he did conjure those— fights, battles, wars, and crisis after crisis… "The Anti-Monitor. A cosmic entity whose sole purpose was to annihilate entire universes, consuming them to fuel its insatiable hunger for destruction."

John was intrigued, "So, what happened? Is it the Anti-Monitor are you gonna have me deal with?"

"No," was a straight answer without hesitation. "The Anti-Monitor was a Singularity, and so was this one. The difference was the Anti-Monitor was like a self-obsessed irrational child throwing a tantrum because he can…. But this one? This one is thinking, scheming, and has cunning beyond measure not to mention subordinates with immense potential."

Constantine asked for the name of their mysterious celebrity, he tapped his boots over the grass getting impatient as to why they were even here. "I knew a few very big baddies like Darkseid or Trigon, and I haven't heard this Anti-Monitor… as in never. So who is our mysterious celebrity?"

The Spectre answered, "Ainz Ooal Gown, who in every conceivable reality that I had peered through— has killed me. It was always me, the 'Spectre' that died first from him as if it was a pre-ordained fate. While this Ainz Ooal Gown might not be as destructive as the mythological Anti Monitor, Ainz Ooal Gown had the illogical ability to grow beyond reason…"

John raised an eyebrow, absorbing the gravity of the situation. "Ainz Ooal Gown? I've never heard of him. What makes him so dangerous?"

Spectre's ethereal form seemed to shudder as if recalling a dark memory. "Ainz Ooal Gown was once a player in a virtual reality game, but something went awry. He transcended the confines of the game and became a being with the power to reshape realities. His ambitions are vast, and his intellect is unparalleled."

Constantine, still tapping his boots impatiently, interjected, "Sounds like a real piece of work. His origin story for one is verily weird… Aren't we maybe misunderstanding something here? A VR game giving Godly Power just sounds so fucking ridiculous, isn't it? What's the plan here, Spectre?"

Spectre's gaze lingered on the illusory images of battles and crises he conjured for his storytelling. "Ainz Ooal Gown has set his sights on this particular reality. As to why, I don't know. But very soon, he will make changes to this world, then to the universe, and who knows where."

John surveyed the surroundings, a sense of urgency creeping into his voice. "So, where is he? What's our move?"

To John Constantine, he felt suddenly less motivated. How much harm can a game character really do? The Spectre seemed to know a lot about the said Ainz Ooal Gown, but John wouldn't bother to care anymore… In fact, John was coming to realize that the Spectre might be pulling a prank on him.

But John changed his mind very soon… as a tomb of illogical proportion sprung up from the void. "Seriously, I feel like I am hearing Final Boss music all too suddenly."

"A little warning, John," The Spectre added with severity to his tone. "Never let Ainz know that we know that he came from a VR world, a game, to which I believe even now were yet to be truly confirmed. I guessed you had to find that out for yourself after my death."

At this moment, John was screaming at his mind, complaining to the Spectre— if it was yet to be fucking 100% confirmed, then you should have kept this to yourself, you fucking wanker! VR GAME!? Does this look like fucking VR to you!? The magic in this was fookin' strong, ya really want me to get killed, you damn ghost!

---

How much did the Spectre know of Ainz Ooal Gown?

The truth— nothing, except what the Skeleton had shared with him.

The Skeleton was inscrutable that way. At one point in time, the Spectre had befriended the Skeleton against all of his basest instincts. Through their short friendship, the Spectre had glimpsed what he believed to be humanity from the skeleton— a love for his family— Nazarick and his everything.

But to all that was different, and thanks to the inherently destructive nature of the DC Universe as Spectre came to know of it, Ainz Ooal Gown was set on a path of the inevitable. The Spectre only learned a tiny bit of Ainz Ooal Gown and the Universe after he forcibly used Harley Quinn to access a state for Fourth Wall Awareness.

The Spectre had only seen little, but he swore, he almost self-destructed.

At this point, the Spectre didn't really know what it was doing anymore… It was just struggling, perhaps in a sense of duty towards the universe, the multiverse, or whatever was beyond that.

"I will die, but in exchange… I hope, more would live."

---

The DMMO-RPG—YGGDRASIL was an enigma.

Would you know its story?

For its most mundane users, it was just a game… a Dive Massively Multiplayer Online Role-Playing Game of the most cutting-edge technology. But to a rare few? This was their second life.

But what was its true nature? Really? It couldn't be just that! Considering a lot of Momonga had actually found themselves in their own independent alternate realities regardless of scale, it was more than enough to realize that YGGDRASIL for all of its lies may actually have been something more… You see, it just had created a God, one that personified Death.

One Momonga would end up in a fantasy-esque world where dwarves, elves, dragons, and humans existed, while other versions of him as a result of planar rebounds would have ended in other more independent realities where the scale was bigger— now, I present to you the DC Universe!

From the bowels of the most eldritch terrors, the Overlord of Death, Ainz Ooal Gown descended upon Earth-N/A. Year 2024, February 01.

Fun fact— analysis of story and game mechanics had shown the Overlord's Data and his Possessions would mutate and evolve every time he would experience True Planar Transmigration, thus scaling his data no matter what kind of reality he would end up in.

---

Suzuki Satoru, now Momonga… had a mug that was unmistakably that of a polished ivory skull. He just had fondled Albedo's chest, when he thought, "Ah, I think I am screwed…" He had just changed Albedo's Character Settings after all which was bad… very bad… it was a disrespect to Tabula Smaragdina's memories.

"My beloved,"cried Albedo with what Momonga assumed as crazed and fanatic love. "Take me now, my lord for I am yours—"

At this point, Momonga was dazed as his Emotion Suppressors kicked in. The Guardians of the Tomb of Nazarick gathered on the 6th Floor as he had ordered them… One by one, the guardians then had given their salutations, passionate in their every word.

All of the Guardians were accounted for except Victim and Gargantua. There was Albedo, Demiurge, Shalltear, Mare, Aura, and Cocytus.

Everything was happening too fast.

With the Amphitheater in the background, Momonga watched over his subjects all of them looking at him in adoration. The expectations their eyes had set upon him were heavy, but welcome.

Suddenly, Momonga had then heard Sebas Tian's voice through the Message Function informing him that the now Tomb of Nazarick was surrounded by a forest and that they had visitors.

In the midst of the unexpected turn of events, Momonga's composure wavered as he tried to make sense of the situation.

The Guardians stood before him, their expressions a mix of loyalty and admiration. Albedo's declaration of love echoed in the air as Momonga's mind raced to comprehend the consequences of his impulsive actions.

"My lord, oh beloved," Albedo continued with fervor, her eyes ablaze with devotion. "Command me, and I shall fulfill your every desire."

Momonga, feeling the weight of Tabula Smaragdina's disapproval, cleared his throat. "Albedo, this is not the time for such matters. We have visitors. Sebas Tian, report."

Sebas Tian who rose from the shadows bowed respectfully and relayed the urgent message. "My lord, the Tomb of Nazarick is now surrounded by a dense forest. We have unknown visitors approaching."

Momonga's eyes narrowed with concern. "Unknown visitors? Prepare for any situation. Guardians, be on high alert. Raise the security level to the highest imaginable."

"Your command has been received, arinsu~" Shalltear sweetly replied, her crimson Victorian dress swaying as she curtsied.

"I. SHALL. NOT. FAIL. MY. LORD." Cocytus added, his voice was a deep baritone as his sky blue carapace shimmered as he moved.

As the Guardians assumed defensive positions and their apt stations, Momonga addressed Albedo. "Albedo, we'll discuss this later. For now, focus on our current situation."

Albedo reluctantly nodded, her eyes still filled with adoration. Momonga activated the Message Function to communicate with the other NPCs.

"Attention, all residents of Nazarick. We have visitors. Stay vigilant and report any unusual activity. We don't know their intentions, so be prepared for anything."

The Guardians exchanged glances, determination evident in their eyes. Mare spoke up, "Fear not, Lord Momonga. We shall protect Nazarick at all costs." And then Aura added, "And that we shall do!"

Momonga acknowledged their loyalty with a nod. "Good. Sebas, invite our guests amicably to our abode… Let's show them our hospitality, shall we?"

---

"What can you tell me about this Ainz fella?" asked John to Spectre.

Spectre answered, "Treat him at the level of the so-called New Gods, I believed you had a few brush-ins with them…"

"Well, the problem was most of my memories of them were blurry…" But then, John had suddenly shut up. "Show yourself!"

Appearing eerily from nowhere was a refined old (?) man with a strong physique who was wearing what John perceived as a butler's outfit. "Greetings," he did an elegant bow. "My Master wished to invite you to his abode."

John frowned, feeling uncomfortable at the sight of the old man as if he could see through his very nature… and this would rarely happen to him… He was John Constantine! "This is definitely not magic, but it was certainly supernatural… occult, not so sure… almost reminded me of the arts from the east."

The Spectre hummed softly in response, "You got that on point."

"Can he see you?" John asked, so blatantly obvious as if hiding Spectre didn't even cross his mind. But what use was hiding when it was the fact that no matter what, Spectre here was so sure he'd end up dead after meeting the mysterious Ainz Ooal Gown.

The one who answered was not Spectre, but the old man. "I could not see him, but I certainly felt there was a presence. I would appreciate it if the dear guests could show themselves. If it was a racial function, then that would be too bad."

With a thought, Spectre revealed himself.

John clicked his tongue in half-annoyance. He knew Spectre was a prick for his insistence on always maintaining an air of mystery by only showing himself to selected people as if he was some big shot, and it irked John that Spectre was so cooperative this time.

"How about we begin with names?" The old man added in a show to ingratiate himself. "My name is Sebas Tian. Please call me Sebas."

"Very creative name…" John felt his motivation continuously deflating. "I thought it would sound more, I don't know. Villainy?" And then again, his joking was another poor method to distract his own anxieties slowly building up.

The power emanating from the Tomb that had just sprung up from the void was like that of his House of Mysteries, but bigger, scarier, and possibly better in all aspects not that John was jealous, but he would hate to admit that there was something superior to the House of Mysteries.

Sebas Tian chuckled politely at John's comment. "Names are but labels, and I find simplicity to be elegant. Now, may I inquire about your name, esteemed guest?"

John smirked, not one to easily succumb to formalities. "John Constantine, at your service, Sebas. Now, spill the beans. What was your lot doing here in my realm? My friend here, Spectre was fidgety, and I had never seen him this fidgety before."

Sebas maintained his composure, "Unfortunately, I couldn't answer… Perhaps only my master would know the answer to this."

John arched an eyebrow, a hint of suspicion lingering in his gaze. "Well, I'm not one to join any fancy cults or follow mysterious overlords. What's he after?"

Sebas smiled, a polite gesture that didn't reach his eyes. "I have been asked by my Master to be hospitable and cordial, but even an old man like me has his temper. You have been invited, and that was all."

John smirked, a glint of mischief in his eyes. "Alright, Sebas, lead the way. But remember, I don't dance to anyone's tune. I'm just here for the show and maybe a good deal. If your Master steps out of line, though, he'll have more than a devil to deal with."

Sebas inclined his head, acknowledging John's terms. "Understood, Mr. Constantine. Please follow me, and I assure you, my Master values diplomacy over conflict. He was a kind and benevolent being after all."

A dark ellipse portal sprung up beside Sebas. "Please," he gestured, pointing to the dark curtain.

John was never shy about magic portals, thus he walked through the portal without any misgivings. As the trio moved towards the unknown grand hallways where they landed, John couldn't shake the feeling that this encounter would unfold into a… more problematic chapter of his life.

---

Sebas was worried, and he should be. The being who claimed to go by Spectre was unfathomable beyond measure almost reminding him of the 41 Supreme Beings, but he wouldn't let that impede his job as a butler.

But truthfully, what was the right choice?

It would have been perfect if he could contact Demiurge or Albedo. "I could, actually," so he did.

Using the Message Function, he addressed Albedo first as she was the foremost and overtly leader of the Guardians. While guiding the guests, John Constantine and the Spectre at a relatively slow pace, he asked Albedo for her opinion.

"Albedo, my apologies for disturbing you, but I find myself in a perplexing situation," Sebas mentally called as if it were telepathy, using the appropriate skills in combination to hide their conversation. Desperate moments called for drastic measures, so despite the lack of experimentation on the changes, he went and called for counsel.

Within moments, Albedo's response was heard. "Sebas, what is the matter? We are in the midst of hosting these guests." Her words were dripping with disdain. "Make it brief. I am busy with re-allocating resources to guard the Throne Room…"

Sebas hesitated for a moment, choosing his words carefully. "I have encountered an entity calling itself Spectre. I am unsure how to proceed and thought to seek your guidance. This one had a rather unfathomable amount of power perhaps even on the level of a Supreme Being."

Albedo's immediate response displayed a hint of irritation. "Sebas, are you questioning the authority and supremacy of the Supreme Beings by entertaining such thoughts? Such notions are blasphemous!"

Sebas bowed his head slightly, even though Albedo couldn't see the gesture through the message. "My apologies, Albedo. I did not mean to imply any disrespect. I am merely uncertain about the nature of this being and how it might affect our master's interests."

Albedo's anger seemed to simmer beneath her composed response. "You are correct to seek guidance. However, do not let doubt cloud your loyalty. Report the situation, but remember your place, Sebas."

Sebas acknowledged her words with a respectful message. "Understood, Albedo. I will continue to observe and report as necessary. Thank you for your counsel."

"Sebas, I don't know what you are doing, but I would kindly inform you that Spectre here has omniscient knowledge and awareness, allowing him to perceive events happening across the entire multiverse. This awareness extends to the past, present, and future." John called to Sebas in a mocking tone, but actually, he was mocking Spectre. "What I meant was I'd like to very much discourage you to avoid playing tricks on us…"

"I wouldn't dare," Sebas answered, and finally, they stood before a regal gate adorned with ebony, gold, and an unknown symbol. "This was where we would part."

---

Momonga sat on his regal throne, the Staff of Ains Ooal Gown hovering just beside him. Its red aura permeated with grand power… Within the Throne Room, he was visibly alone, yet the truth was… the place was brimming with stealth-type creatures who would pounce at the first chance they got.

Not to mention the Guardians who were at stand-by similarly under invisibility of some kind empowered by Momonga's Skill Bonuses and his Staff. In a word, Momonga was loaded, and with his seemingly Level 100 Data which represented the peak for Players, he was more than powerful enough to care for himself.

However, he wouldn't delude himself into thinking that he was infallible.

First and foremost, he would need information.

When the gate moved, there appeared his guests— a mortal man exuding the presence of magic, his name was John Constantine according to Sebas's reports. And beside that man was a green-caped man with pale skin hovering just above the ground.

Momonga under his Arcane Vision saw the amount of Mana and Life Force the two had.

John Constantine had impressive Mana, roughly putting him at Level 50 just by his Mana values alone. Doing the computation backward, including John's Life Force, he would be roughly at Level 34.

With a deep sigh, Momonga greeted his guests. "Behold— I am Ainz Ooal Gown. I couldn't prepare a much warmer welcome, so I hope my meeting with you like this wouldn't put you off."

Looking with extra scrutiny at Spectre, Momonga could not help but feel his chest tighten— he had done another set of computations in his head, perhaps his Intelligence Stats and Wisdom Stats working together at overdrive… The Spectre had ridiculous amounts of Mana and Life Force, putting him beyond the parameters of mere players.

If Momonga had to choose a word, he'd put Spectre at the level of a Raid Boss, maybe even near a World Enemy, the kind that Momonga would have to subjugate with all of his Guild's resources, and that was including his friends' help.

Momonga continued, testing for information, "My people had been befuddled as we had an accident recently. Something that I could not understand its nature… not to mention even with the most brilliant minds my subordinates could offer. So I wish to make this quick, what is it you want from me?"

Though it might just be a coincidence, Momonga could not help but feel an inkling of suspicion at how good the timing of his hosts was, to be seemingly waiting for their— The Tomb of Nazarick's— arrival.

John Constantine smirked, his eyes gleaming with a hint of mischief. "Well, mate, we ain't exactly here for a cup of tea and biscuits. Got ourselves a bit of a situation, you see. Spectre here and I were just passing through dimensions, and, lo and behold, we ended up in your neck of the woods."

It was a poor excuse that even the not-so-brilliant Momonga could see through.

Spectre, the enigmatic figure with a green cape, floated silently, his pale visage unreadable. Momonga could sense the immense power emanating from him, a force to be reckoned with.

Momonga, now Ainz Ooal Gown maintained his composure, his skeletal face betraying none of the thoughts racing through his mind. "Coincidence or not, your timing is quite impeccable. Speak your purpose, and let's get to the heart of the matter." Thankfully, a skeleton face wouldn't really need any extra effort to put on a poker face.

John Constantine chuckled, a raspy sound that echoed in the vast chamber. "Right to the point, then. What I have here was a contract—and it's bound to the universe… this was basically penned by Spec here. Please see."

Momonga raised his bony hand, a gesture for John to elaborate. "Continue. What does this have to do with me and the Tomb of Nazarick?"

Spectre's voice, cold and otherworldly, echoed in the room. "This Contract was a request— you see, I am a very special entity. I function in ways that even I cannot interfere with. Like a program meant to course the Universe and Beyond, I act on unseen protocols that had robbed me of my free will."

"What do you mean?" Momonga's voice had a certain edge to it, as at the back of his head, something very wrong was about to happen.

"For example, like this." Spectre raised his right hand, and uttered, "You see, it was my life's purpose to eradicate your ilk."

"Divine Judgement!" unleashed the Spectre.

Rays of light burst from Momonga's ivory bones and for the first time in this world, he had learned of pain. "Aaa-gh!" He may have overreacted since the pain was at the level of having his toe stubbed, and moreover, he was geared with defensive protections.

It was problematic though that light continued on pouring in his being, seeking to eradicate him.

Before even Momonga could counterattack, his Guardians had sprung to action… all of them blinded by hate, anger, and love for their creator… and that was when Momonga had truly begun to hurt— more than he could endure. They were immature, newly born minds, trapped within perspectives Momonga used to refer to as Character Settings.

Spectre was definitely at the level of a World Enemy, not to mention one with intelligence.

Laid to waste before Momonga were the lifeless figures of Demiurge and Albedo— the two's defense abilities were formidable, but Spectre tore through them with the same magical ability he had unleashed on Momonga— that blinding light that seeped from an individual's being inside and out.

"Divine Judgment, was it?" Momonga's voice was low.

At this point, Momonga had long ordered Sebas to restrain the Pleidaes Maids lest they join the casualties. "Mass Hold Species," Momonga uttered, enforcing his magic to his subordinates who stood still at his words, including the other stealth-based creatures in hiding that were waiting for his command.

Shalltear had teary eyes as she glanced over Albedo's dead body, and then at the Spectre, "I would make sure you shall know—"

Before even Momonga could cast a Mass Teleport Spell, Spectre had cast his so-called Divine Judgement which quickly turned Shalltear to ash. "You see, Ainz Ooal Gown, this was my program embedded in my soul. The contract I had my representative here was to take advantage of the loophole that the 'Spectre' represented. You see, the 'Spectre' was more of an Occupation than an Ability that came with me. Meaning with my death, there will be a new Spectre, but with your cooperation—"

"YOU_YOU_YOU!" Aura's eyes had turned red, and out of her sheer willpower, she broke through the Mass Hold Species. "I WOULD FLAY YOU AND FEED YOU TO THE DOGS!"

Spectre merely continued on his narrative, seemingly unmoved by the dark elf whose whip strikes just passed through him, "I hoped that you would take the path of co-existence and that—"

"Mass Teleport," Momonga had cut off Spectre as he teleported with him through the 6th Floor, the Amphitheater where the only audience was John Constantine. "I see. Your Divine Judgement induces great damage to creatures with high Negative Karma Value. The name was unoriginal. Considering that you got easily taken for the ride with my Mass Teleport, it was either you lacked magical defenses or you were faking the lack of them."

There was silent rage in Momonga's voice. "I had been naïve inviting you into my home, taking it in great strides that I would be safe… that my children would be safe… I was arrogant." The orb in Momonga's core pulsated with rabid energy, not to mention the golden staff in his right hand crying madly with souls that had been sacrificed to it. "Divine Judgement, was it? Then how about you receive my judgment?"

---

John Constantine watched the unfolding chaos with a casual smirk, his eyes glinting with a mix of amusement and calculation. He leaned against an invisible barrier, his trench coat billowing as he enjoyed the spectacle before him.

"Well, ain't this a right mess," he mused, taking a drag from a cigarette that appeared seemingly out of thin air. "Never thought I'd see the day when the green-capped zombie would have a run-in with the likes of this Lich and yours truly."

The skeletal figure of Ainz Ooal Gown, now visibly pulsating with anger, faced off against the spectral entity that had just laid waste to some of Nazarick's formidable denizens. John couldn't help but be impressed by the raw power on display, even if it did jeopardize his own plan.

"You see, Ainz, mate," John said, his British accent dripping with nonchalance, "Spectre here's got a bit of obsession over responsibility. Seems like he's been programmed to be the cosmic janitor, cleaning up the mess that beings like you leave behind."

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

John began sweating, his cig dropping from his fingers, and his hands clasped on the rails with evident worry. "What the fucking hell is that?"

A gothic clockwork appeared behind the angry skeleton whose unholy red flames in its eyes continued to burn with hate— true hate that John could almost taste it.

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

"It is my loss," The Spectre quickly admitted, the effects of whatever spell that was, not even activating yet. And John wouldn't know why exactly the Spectre had given up. What was even happening?

"Aren't you even gonna try?" Ainz gritted his teeth, a palpable disappointment at the defeatist attitude of the Spectre. "You had to try for my sake, or else I will feel empty on killing you. Not even a token of defiance? Surely, you could do more."

"Yes, I indeed could do more. I could bend reality and time as I will it, but you will find me. And you will kill me. The reason I killed your children was not out of my free will, but a sense of justice the Aspect of Aztar had enforced in me. For millennia, I had been co-existing with it, but I was tired now. I could and would continue if only I had not met you. I am the divine purger of the wicked… and you are wicked."

The red flames in Ainz's eyes dimmed. "A disappointment, but I should be content with taking your life."

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

"The Goal of All Life is Death!" Ainz raised his bony palm and atop it was a heart, with force, he crushed it. "Grasp Heart!" With only such words, the Spectre then came hurtling down the Amphitheatre. And with paranoid-induced extra measures... "True Death!" Ainz unleashed another powerful spell, ensuring that the Spectre was killed with finality.

However, Ainz was not done yet as he had quickly cast a spell on himself. "Greater Luck." And then following that was another spell— "Dark Wisdom~"

Visible to the naked eye, the Spectre's ghostly visage turned to small dark spots, gathered in the air, and then merged with the staff that Ainz was carrying. John didn't know what the hell that was, and multiple times, he was continuously surprised by magic he had never seen before.

Ainz stood over John Constantine, teleported actually right on John's face. "John Constantine. Read me the contract." He demanded. With the Spectre dead, this leaves John and Ainz Ooal Gown.

John was nervous, the contract was after all, possibly world damning, stating that in the event that Ainz Ooal Gown had won a duel against the Spectre, the latter shall give up the 'position' of the Spectre to the victor— abilities, powers, and everything ensuring a path to Godhood without mistake.

Now, the hard part was selling the 'position' to Ainz.

John Constantine wiped the sweat off his brow, his nerves on edge as Ainz Ooal Gown towered over him. The dangerously golden staff remained beside him, floating. John was almost tempted to grab it and run, but any mystic worth their salt would know better than to do it in front of the monster that was… Gown.

"Well, mate, you've gone and done it," John said, his voice shaky but trying to maintain his usual bravado. "You've defeated the Spectre fair and square. Now, about that contract... just please sign here…"

Ainz's empty sockets seemed to bore into John's soul as he awaited an explanation. John took a deep breath and began to recount the terms of the contract, each word feeling heavier than the last.

"In the unfortunate event of the Spectre's defeat, the victor, that's you, would inherit the position of the Spectre. Powers, everything, and a sure-win one-way ticket to Godhood. It's all there in the fine print," John explained, his eyes flickering towards the Red Orb displayed just on the skeleton's torso, wondering if it was a weak point of some sort.

Ainz's skeletal face betrayed no emotion, but John could sense the weight of the decision pressing on him. "Godhood, you say?" Ainz mused, his voice echoing through the amphitheater. "What does this 'position' entail, Constantine?"

John gulped, choosing his words carefully. "Well, mate, you become the divine purger of the wicked. The Spectre's job is to maintain cosmic balance, hand out justice, and make sure the bad guys get what's coming to 'em. It's a high-stakes game, but the perks include near-omnipotence and a front-row seat to the secrets of the universe, basically a cosmic awareness that will give you near omniscience!"

Ainz considered the offer, his bony fingers tapping rhythmically on the staff. "And what of the drawbacks?"

"Oh, you know, the usual," John replied with a wry grin. "Existential loneliness, the burden of playing judge, jury, and executioner, and the occasional cosmic headache. But hey, who wouldn't want to be a god?"

---

Momonga leaned in closer, his eye sockets inches away from John's face. "You're not telling me everything, Constantine. I am no fool." The truth was… Momonga was just bluffing at this point, but it appeared it worked.

John's facade cracked, revealing a hint of desperation. "Look, Ainz, it's a bloody complicated gig. You'll have powers beyond your wildest dreams, but you'll also be tethered to a sense of justice that might drive you mad. And trust me, dealing with cosmic entities and their whims can be a right pain in the arse. But you look fit for the job! You are so strong you one-sidedly brutalized one of the few beings who could traverse the Multiverse with a thought!"

For some reason, Momonga got this impression from Mr. Constantine of a desperate and too-hardworking salaryman. "Very well, Constantine. I will sign this contract… tomorrow."

Momonga had bigger priorities at this moment— first and foremost, resurrecting his family.

---

Despair would always start with the minority. For the Spectre, for me… I had always been the start of it. Despair. Despair. Despair. Despair.

One host to another, all vessel for vengeance to the wicked, divine or not, I had led a life with the same never-ending recurring theme few would refer to as 'despair' but many would definitely refer to as a Gift.

Being the Spectre had destroyed my personality.

I had lost who I am.

But I never gave up on it, because giving up on it meant passing the painful burden to another, a fate I would never want another to carry. I had nothing to hold on to, thus in the continuous poring over realities and doing my responsibilities, I had come to realize I was degrading.

I am Immortal in mind, body, and spirit, but not in motivation.

If only being the 'Spectre' was so easy. In numerous realities, I had bumped heads with those who had fit 'wickedness' to the tee, hoping to either pass my curse to them or just fulfill my duties on behalf of the cosmos.

But no. True Wickedness was a more difficult foe than anyone could have ever imagined. The true enemy no matter what the iteration, had always been perception. I had fought Darkseid, different kinds of New Gods, and even Trigon in hopes of pursuing my vision of justice… and at some point, hoped to complete my penance.

It was all futile.

My conscience wouldn't allow me to pass on the mantle, or abandon it so irresponsibly.

And then I met the perfect candidate, one who held a smidgen of humanity in him, one beyond the conceivable reality, and one… who was more amiable than the more self-destructive psychopaths of the multiverse.

His name was—