The battlefield lay in ruins. The horizon was drenched in crimson, the last embers of sunlight bleeding over shattered marble and molten steel.
The air was heavy with mana and smoke, each gust carrying the scent of ozone and death. Amidst the ruins, two figures faced one another—divine yet weary, brothers by birth and by fate.
Karna stood breathing heavily, golden armor cracked and glimmering faintly in the dying light. Each breath rattled through his chest, his lnce humming softly as if resonating with the pulse of the world.
Across from him, Arjuna's bow Gandiva rested in his hands, its string taut with divine pressure, his once-white armor stained with blood and dust from their clash.
No words passed between them for a long time. The silence was sacred. The wind that howled across the wasteland seemed to understand it too, that this was not a mere battle. It was an inevitability written in the stars.
Finally, Arjuna spoke, his voice low but steady.
"Brother… even now, you still stand strong. You always were impossible to surpass."
Karna smiled faintly, tired yet serene.
"And yet here we are, Arjuna. Two sons of Surya and Indra, fated to cross blades till only one remains."
The air shimmered as both servants released their suppressed mana. The ground quaked under their feet, fissures spreading outward like veins.
Arjuna drew back his bowstring. Each movement was elegant, divine precision carved into motion. "I will not hold back anything. Not this time."
Karna nodded. "Nor will I. Let the gods themselves witness the end of our story, written by our own hands."
Their divine auras flared, gold and red aura surrounding both of them. The world seemed to tremble beneath the weight of their existence.
Arjuna was the first to move. In a flash of motion, arrows rained across the landscape like divine comets, each infused with his authority. The ground ignited where they landed, detonating with enough force to level a city block. Karna's spear whirled in his hand, each swing cutting through the storms of flame and lightning.
Their clash became fiercer. Every strike, every parry, was flawless. Just the shockwaves were strong enough to crush the ground and uproot trees.
"Your aim hasn't dulled," Karna said between blows, blocking a radiant arrow that exploded into light.
"And you still insist on closing the distance," Arjuna replied, loosing another volley without pause.
Karna lunged, thrusting Vasavi Shakti forward with such force that the shockwave split the clouds. Arjuna barely evaded, countering with a divine arrow wreathed in fire. The collision birthed a miniature sun between them. Which then exploded violently.
Both were thrown back, yet neither faltered.
The sky darkened as if the heavens themselves dared not watch.
As they squared off again, a faint sadness crossed Karna's face.
"Do you hate me still, brother?"
Arjuna hesitated. The bow in his hand trembled, just slightly.
"No. I never hated you. We just stood on different sides, an amusement for the divine. But right here, now, as warriors, we must finish this."
Karna's smile softened. "Then so be it."
He raised his spear high, its golden core pulsing with light—divine, absolute, destructive.
" O Surya...bear witness!
There is no room for hesitation on the battlefield.
O Father, forgive me.
This will be my first and likely last strike...!"
The spear erupted with celestial energy. Blazing flames tore across the sky, splitting the clouds. The true lance of the Indra , a weapon that could only be used once, answered its master's call.
The wind screamed as Karna's body began to dissolve from the sheer divinity pouring through it.
Across the ruined field, Arjuna closed his eyes. His bow shone with blue light as his mana flared to its limit, the very ground beneath him fracturing from the surge.
My karma shall be unleashed here.
As the child of a god and a human, I will dole out punishment!
Behold... This is destruction!"
The words alone carried weight enough to silence the winds.
A vast mandala of glowing runes unfolded behind him, expanding outward like the petals of a lotus.
From its center, energy gathered—pure, divine, and absolute. The weapon of Shiva himself, one that denied life and erased all that stood against its wielder's justice.
Karna smirked through the pain.
"How fitting, brother. Shiva's wrath against Indra's thunder."
Arjuna raised his bow.
"Let us see upon which one of us the gods smiles today."
The world held its breath.
"VASAVI SHAKTI!"
"PASHUPATA!"
The two divine weapons unleashed their fury simultaneously. The clash was comparable to nuclear explosions.
The sky split apart.The continent was shaking
A blinding torrent of gold and blue light collided midair, swallowing the horizon. The resulting explosion was apocalyptic—an expanding sphere of annihilation that vaporized everything within twenty kilometers. The continent lost a good chunk of earth that could never be restored.
Mountains shattered, rivers boiled into steam, and the very air screamed as the energy scoured the land.
The impact was beyond comprehension. The shockwave rippled across continents, shattering the sound barrier with every pulse.
The ground where they stood ceased to exist, replaced by a vast crater of molten glass.
When the light finally began to fade, the battlefield was silent.
Nothing remained but scorched earth and drifting ash.
At the center of it, a lone figure stood standing amidst the smoke—Karna, his armor shattered, his white hair dimmed. He was smiling faintly, though blood ran freely from his lips. He staggered forward, his steps heavy.
In the distance, Arjuna lay collapsed against a shattered boulder, his bow broken beside him. He chuckled softly. " So I lost , huh? You are too strong Brother."
Karna knelt down, the spear fading from his grasp. He looked at his hand, already dissolving into motes of golden light.
"No brother, It seems fate has abandoned me once again."
His master, Connor, had already fallen moments before the blast. Karna had felt the connection break, yet he fought on and won. Now, with his mana supply fading, his existence began to wane.
He turned his gaze toward the sky.
"So… this is how it ends. Forgive me, Connor, I failed to protect you."
He smiled even as his body dissipated.
"Arjuna… you were always my brother. I was just the existence who made everything complicated. But I am glad to meet you again, to clash weapons once again.."
As he spoke, the last of his body began to fade. His spirit core fractured, scattering light like dust across the night.
When Arjuna opened his eyes again, the first thing he saw was that golden glow dissipating into the heavens. He exhaled, a faint, broken smile forming on his lips.
"Even now… you're always ahead, brother. So it's true. Without divine intervention, you would always win against me. But even after everything, you are so kind."
His armor was in tatters, his body barely holding together. Every breath felt like knives. Yet he found the strength to sit upright. The stars above shimmered faintly, reflected in his fading eyes.
"So this is it," he murmured to no one in particular. "Our final war…"
He rested his head back against the rock and let the silence take him. The wind brushed gently past, carrying with it the lingering warmth of his brother's light.
The two divine warriors—Karna, the Son of the Surya, and Arjuna, the son of Indra, passed from the world as quietly as they had lived: proud, resolute, and bound forever by the cruel love of fate.
But even as Arjuna fell, he didn't know he had lasted long enough, and won the war.
******
The air was heavy on the other side , when the clash of the two Heroes came to an end. Edward stood amidst the ruin, smoke rising from the blackened ground around him.
Gilgamesh staggered back, his golden armor fractured and dull, once-majestic treasures lying in twisted heaps around his feet. His eyes, still full of imperious rage, locked on Edward, who was grinning faintly beneath the shadows of his coat.
Gilgamesh spat blood, the strength in his veins dimming. "You insolent monster… you think yourself worthy to.."
"Alright, Imma stop you right there Goldy locks. I'm tired of listening you repeat same dialogues like an npc. It's like someone got lazy and forgot to write your script. But it's time to end this charade. "
Edward took a deep breath and spoke softly, yet his words sent down a shiver down the King of Hero's spine.
"I am all that remains when life grows tired of itself. So the world saw me fit to grant me the gift of death." His shadows stretched out, wailing.
Constantine took a step back as Edward's guns glowed eerily. Batman who had put on his mask again stood silently. He was just an observer now.
"So I now share that gift with you. Contemplate how fragile life truly is. For I shall strip away anything that's not mortal."
"The Twin Executioner of Fate!"
A single shot was fired from Hellsing Callus. It was ordinary, almost weak and ignorable.
Gilgamesh summoned a golden shield. "You think This is enough to stop me! I am..."
The shot tore through Gilgamesh's shoulder before the sentence finished, splattering gold-tinged blood across the cracked stone.
The gun hummed in Edward's hand, still smoking, his crimson eyes gleaming with something feral, but measured.
"Since you hate mongrels so much, Goldy…" Edward said in a deep voice, his tone laced with cruel amusement.
He stepped closer, boots crunching over the shattered remains of ancient weapons. "Let me take away your divinity… and see how you like it."
The runes etched into the bullet
ignited within Gilgamesh with a dark-red light. The air shimmered as a pulse of foreign energy surged outward, wrapping around Gilgamesh like chains made of liquid shadow.
He roared, thrashing violently as his divine aura— that ancient, suffocating brilliance of kingship was peeled away, layer by layer. The very light around him fractured, divinity unraveling like thread under a blade.
"You dare!" he choked, voice breaking into fury. But his power was gone. What stood before Edward now wasn't a god, or a half-divine king — but a man.
A mortal, trembling with fury and disbelief.
Gilgamesh's knees buckled slightly. The weapons that once obeyed him was silent. His divine strength was gone. His treasures — still and lifeless, returned to the gate of Babylon as he couldn't sustain them.
For the first time in his existence, The King of Heroes felt fear.
Edward tilted his head slightly, watching him with detached curiosity. "You look smaller now," he said with a smirk, pressing the barrel of his gun against Gilgamesh's forehead. "Almost human."
Gilgamesh clenched his fists, desperate, pride burning even as his voice faltered. "I… am Gilgamesh. The King of Heroes. I will not be... "
Bang!
The bullet ripped through Gilgamesh's skull, shattering his golden crown and scattering fragments of bone and light across the air. His body jerked once before collapsing, lifeless, onto the ground.
Smoke curled from the Jackal's muzzle. Edward exhaled, slow and deliberate, blowing the smoke away like a man ending a long day's work.
"Should've stayed in Babylon, Goldy," he muttered. "Pride kills faster than bullets."
He holstered his weapon, and with a low hum, the crimson miasma of his Crimson Graveyard rippled around him. It surged outward in thick tendrils, wrapping around Gilgamesh's corpse, devouring it entirely.
The King of Heroes' remains were swallowed by the abyss — his existence erased, his power absorbed into the endless hunger that was Alucard's soul.
When it was done, only silence remained.
Edward turned, brushing dust off his coat, his crimson eyes gleaming faintly.
Batman stood nearby with his mask on , Constantine beside him, bloodied and wary. The ground was littered with debris, corpses, and echoes of magic.
Green Lantern and Shazam had arrived at the edge of the City, their faces grim as they surveyed the ruin. Hal shouted to Batman. " Sorry for being late Batman. What the hell happened here."
Shazam paused and looked at Edward who stood lazily . For some reason, he felt something resonate in his soul, as if the stranger was very familiar to him.
Edward grinned lazily at the sight of them. "What?" he asked, his tone light but edged with something that made even the boldest hesitate. "You all look like you've seen a ghost. Don't worry, like cops, you have come after the fight is over. Let me exit the stage in style. "
He sensed something and raised an eyebrow, "Huh, that's interesting. If only that poor guy had lasted a little longer, he'd get his reward. Oh well. It's done."
Constantine, still catching his breath, gave a nervous half-laugh. "I've seen some shit, mate. But can't say I've ever seen a bloke smile after blowing a guy's head clean off."
Edward tilted his head, smirking. "What can I say? I'm humourous and efficient."
He let the silence stretch, then added, "Anyway… with that, the Grail War is officially concluded." His tone shifted suddenly — mockingly formal.
He swept his hat off with exaggerated grace and gave a theatrical bow toward Constantine. "Congratulations, John Constantine, Master of Archer. You have won the Cup."
Constantine blinked. "Wait, what? Me? How!"
Edward straightened, looking amused. "Well, your servant Arjuna was the last one standing. Though he also just burned himself out finishing Karna. Technically, that makes you the winner. Yorokobe Shounen !" He chuckled lightly.
Constantine stared at him, utterly dumbfounded. "You're tellin' me after all this bloody apocalypse which I wanted no part of… I'm the winner ?"
Edward shrugged. "That's how the rules work. Doesn't matter who's still breathing, only whose Servant outlasts the rest."
He adjusted his hat, turning his gaze toward Batman, then to Green Lantern and Shazam. "Well, gentlemen… since the war's over, you can leave and return to your lives. No hard feelings. Do leave a thumbs-up and a good review if you don't wish to suspiciously die in your sleep." He grinned, showing his sharp fangs.
Shazam frowned. "What did he just—"
But before he could finish, Edward smiled sharply , and vanished from there. His form disintegrated into motes of crimson light, leaving behind only the faint echo of his laughter, carried on the wind like a whisper from Hell itself.
Constantine blinked as the world around him dissolving into a blur of light. His feet found solid ground again, but it wasn't the battlefield anymore. It was… paradise.
He stood in a vast meadow that stretched into eternity, golden light and lush green fields under a soft, eternal dawn. The air shimmered with warmth, flowers swaying in rhythm to some unseen melody.
A calm river wound its way through the horizon, reflecting a sky painted in pinks and golds. No blood. No screams. No smoke. Just peace.
"The hell…" he muttered, turning slowly. "Where am I?"
"Welcome, John Constantine."
The voice came from behind him. Calm, gentle, and full of authority.
Constantine spun around and froze. Standing before him was a smiling handsome man who looked as if sculted to perfection.
He looked… serene. His hair fell in faint golden strands that shimmered like sunlight. He looked like a man sculpted from quiet power.
Constantine shook his head and chanted in his head . " I'm straight, I am not into sucking sausages! Who the hell is this guy! "
"Hello, John Constantine," Edward said gently, his tone warm. "Although I am but a fragment of consciousness, you can call me as Edward Elric. Now tell me, the winner of this Holy Grail War, what is your wish?"
Constantine stared, cigarette halfway to his lips, disbelief painted across his face. " Hold on... Did you say You are THE bloody Edward Elric, the immortal hero who stopped the World War! The guy everyone wanks off to even now! Are you the real deal, mate?"
Edward's shadow smiled faintly although it was strained after hearing the last part. "I'm afraid not. I'm just a consciousness my main body separated, to be a guide for the victors of the Grail. The real me's somewhere else."
He raised a brow. "And before you ask — no, the Holy Grail isn't omnipotent. So choose wisely."
Constantine exhaled through his nose, muttering, "What a bloody joke. After all that, turns out the damn cup's got limits."
Edward's shadow gave a small shrug. "Everything does."
The magician sighed, trying to light up the cigarette — which promptly vanished from his fingers before he could light it. He frowned, looking at his hand, then at Edward, who gestured to a crude wooden sign hanging midair.
It read in rough letters: NO SMOKING.
Constantine groaned. "You're a cunt, you know that?"
Edward chuckled. "I've been called worse."
They stood in silence for a moment, the sound of distant wind brushing through the grass. Constantine's gaze softened as he finally spoke. "So if I wish for those kids to be alive again… can you do it?"
Edward's expression shifted — gentle, understanding. "How selfless of you, John Constantine. I never took you for an altruist."
Constantine looked away. " I just...forget it. Can you do it or no?"
He murmured. "It's possible. But probably not in the way you're imagining."
He lifted his hand, and the air shimmered between them, rippling with visions — Ace's final moments, Connor's sacrifice, Batman holding her hand as she faded into dust.
Constantine's chest tightened at the sight.
"The original flow of time can't be changed," Edward continued softly. "Not unless someone performs a true miracle , the kind that breaks the very laws of existence. I did it once as you might know. But It cost me a lot. Miracles aren't easy after all."
His eyes met Constantine's. "But what I can do… is create something else. A different path."
The meadow rippled again, and another image formed — a city bathed in sunlight. Gotham, but peaceful. The same skyline, but unscarred. Children playing on the streets. A bright world untouched by blood or war. In the distance, Ace and Connor laughed, alive and carefree, under a blue sky.
"I came up with this idea before the Holy Grail Wars ever came to be. I knew many would wish to change things that could conflict with the original flow of time. So I made new concept to bypass that. This concept is called Lostbelt," Edward explained quietly.
"A separate timeline — a branch that splits away from this one. Not connected to the original, but just as real. There, they can live. They can be happy. They'll never know the pain of this war, or what they suffered before."
Constantine swallowed hard, staring at the image. "They won't remember any of this? Not even each other?"
Edward shook his head. "No. But maybe that's mercy."
The magician clenched his fists, eyes burning. "And… me? What happens to me if I make that wish?"
"You'll return," Edward said. "To the world you left behind. This place will fade, and their branch will continue without you. You won't meet them again, not in this life."
Constantine's lips twitched in a bitter smile. "Figures. Always a bloody catch."
Edward stepped closer, his tone soft but firm. "Even so… you can give them peace. After all they lost, that's not nothing."
The silence stretched again. The false dawn shimmered, light bending around the two men standing in the field. Constantine stared at the vision — Ace's laughter, Connor's grin — and something broke inside him. His jaw tightened, voice rough.
"Alright, mate." he said finally. "Do it. Give 'em that life. Let 'em be happy. At least I'll sleep soundly with one less burden."
Edward nodded once, his expression solemn. "As you wish. You have made a good decision. I respect it."
Light surged around them. The world trembled, colors bleeding into gold and white.
The air was filled with a sound ,something purer, a hum of creation. The vision of the new world solidified — bright and alive, untouched by war. Ace's laughter echoed faintly one last time before it faded into eternity.
Constantine shielded his eyes as the brilliance consumed everything. "Bloody hell…" he whispered. "Hope you kids make it count."
When he opened his eyes again, he was standing back in the ruins of the city. The Grail was gone. The battlefield silent. The world — saved, in its broken way.
Edward's voice lingered faintly in his ear, fading with the wind.
"Good fortune to you, John. You did better than most."
Constantine smiled faintly and whispered to the empty air, "Yeah, well… don't get used to it, mate."
"I've taken the liberty to grant you something. Consider it a bonus since you didn't get anything. " Edward chuckled.
Constantine blinked as a bottle of vintage scotch appeared in his hand. "Huh, just a bottle? Talk about cheap."
The voice now laughed. " Hahaha , figured you'd say that. It's an infinite bottle, the drink in it will never run out, nor can can it be broken easily. And the best part, no harm to your body."
Constantine almost stumbled. " Are fuckin real mate? I could kiss you right now! This makes up for everything!" He grinned.
Constantine looked up at the pale dawn creeping through the clouds as he opened the bottle and took a long gulp. The war was over. The price had been unbearable.
But somewhere beyon this world, two souls were laughing again under a blue sky.
And for once, John Constantine let himself smile as he walked away.
" I should talk to Z, and apologize. But I feel like I have forgotten something important. Something to do with.... Bats? Meh, prolly not so important."
*****
London's sky was gray when Constantine returned.
Rain fell in a thin, whispering drizzle, coating the cobblestones in silver. The Thames rolled beneath the mist, slow and ancient, as if carrying the echoes of the war across time itself.
Constantine stood outside the Clock Tower , the ancient seat of the Magus Association — coat collar raised, cigarette between his fingers. His reward inside his coat.
The war was over, but it's memories still clung to him. Atleast patching things up with Zatanna eased his mind. She was quite surprised and even sprayed him with holy water to check if he was a demon in disguise.
He chuckled and dropped the cigarette before crushing it. He hadn't smoked much since the Grail. He was still happy drinking his expensive scotch.
Two metallic familiars opened the heavy doors, their eyes empty as glass. Constantine walked through the grand marble hall, past countless murals of past Grail Wars , portraits of victors,martyrs of holy wars.
None of them looked happy.
He reached the upper chamber where Nostradamus, the current head of the Clock Tower, awaited him. The man looked ageless. Silver hair tied back neatly, eyes like frozen mercury that seemed to see through past and future at once.
"John Constantine," Nostradamus said, voice soft but carrying an impossible weight. "So, it is over I presume."
Constantine managed a thin smile. "Yeah, though I can't say it feels much like victory."
Nostradamus gestured toward the round table between them. "Sit down. Tell me everything."
Constantine did. He spoke of the summoning, the battles, the alliances, the betrayals. Of the servants who burned like stars and died like men. Of Ruler — that monster who was neither demon nor god, but something worse, twisted beyond reason. Of the King of Heroes, and the last shot that ended him.
He didn't embellish. He didn't change anything. He just told it as it was.
When he finished, there was silence. Nostradamus's fingers drummed lightly against the wood. "So, did you get to meet him?"
Constantine nodded. "Yeah, I did. When Bloke said his name was Edward Elric, I almost didn't believe it. after all he's the Kind of man who'd terrify even Hell. Made me almost questions my sexual orientation."
The old magus gave a faint chuckle. "I knew him once. The hero who defied the laws of life itself. Perhaps he's become something more."
He sighed and added. "I got my abilities after winning the Grail war. You know what he told me? He said ' Clairvoyance is overrated and useless when needed!' I realized only later that what he said was true."
Constantine looked down, a flicker of exhaustion in his eyes. "He told me to make a wish. I brought back two kids who didn't deserve to die. In another world, anyway."
Nostradamus's gaze softened. "Ah, a lostbelt. And would you undo it, if you could?"
Constantine hesitated. For once, the smirk and sarcasm were gone. "No. Never."
The old seer smiled faintly. "Then it was a good wish."
He rose, placing a sealed envelope before Constantine. "The report will be archived in the Akashic Records. Here's some compensation for your troubles. You may go. Rest while you can, John Constantine. The world rarely stays quiet for long."
Constantine took the envelope, tucking it inside his coat. He lingered a moment longer, looking at the rain through the stained-glass windows. "Quiet's overrated anyway."
When he stepped back out into the drizzle, the city felt heavier — colder — but alive. He tilted his head to the gray sky and muttered softly,
"Hope you two are doin' alright, kids."
Then he walked away, disappearing into the fog.
Gotham City
The rain here was different as if the gloomy sky was a constant reminder of the darkness that hid in this city.
The war had ended, but Bruce Wayne hadn't found peace.
He stood in the Batcave, mask off, sweat running down his face as he threw punch after punch into a reinforced training dummy. His knuckles bled, the steel surface denting under every strike. He wasn't stopping. Not tonight. Not ever.
In the corner, Alfred watched silently, towel folded in his hands. "You'll break your bones again, Master Wayne."
Bruce didn't answer. His breathing was ragged, his jaw set.
When he finally stopped, he leaned on the console, staring at the cave's flickering monitors.
Reports scrolled past. international headlines:
WAYNE ENTERPRISES FINALIZES ACQUISITION OF LEXCORP HOLDINGS.
MERCY GRAVES CONFIRMED DEAD IN A PLANE CRASH. THE SAME CRASH THAT KILLED THE CEO OF LEXCORP.
LEX LUTHOR'S BODY UNRECOVERED AFTER THE CRASH. FOUL PLAY INVOLVED?
Bruce had signed the deal himself. A silent, efficient move that absorbed everything Lex had built — weapons, patents, corporations, all under his control now.
It was justice, in its own cold way.
But it didn't feel like victory.
The cave was quiet except for the low hum of machinery. Bruce's eyes moved to the glass display case — Ace's psychic diadem, cracked in half. Beside it, Connor's broken armband from Cadmus. He had kept them both.
He pressed a bloodied hand against the glass, eyes narrowing. "Never again," he whispered.
That night, Gotham saw the Batman patrol longer than it ever had. The city watched its guardian move through shadow and rain — silent, relentless.
Every criminal he caught, every corrupt official he unmasked, every syndicate he dismantled, it was all fueled by the same promise: Never again would he stand helpless while children died fighting in front of him.
******
And far away, in another world, in the Lostbelt, the sun was rising.
This world had no memory of war. No Grail. No magic. Only peace.
Ace sat under a sycamore tree, sketchbook in her lap, sunlight spilling across her hair. She laughed as she drew, her pencil scratching lazily at the page.
Across from her, Connor leaned against the tree trunk, reading a physics textbook he probably didn't need for class. His hair had grown longer, and the scar that once marked his chest didn't exist here.
They weren't born in the same city, neither did they knew each other at first.
They had met in high school. Two quiet kids who somehow understood each other before words did. The connection was natural, effortless. Their lives unfolded gently — morning coffees, movie nights, slow walks under streetlights.
They never remembered the pain, or the battles, or the blood.
But sometimes, when the sky turned a certain shade of red, Ace would pause mid-laughter and feel something — a hollow ache she couldn't name. Connor would notice, take her hand, and the feeling would pass.
They built a life together — a small apartment near the river, a garden full of wildflowers Ace insisted on growing. Connor became a teacher, known for his kindness and patience. Ace painted murals around the city, bright and chaotic, full of color and hope.
Years later, when they sat on the porch watching the sunset, Ace rested her head on his shoulder and whispered, "Feels like we've known each other forever, doesn't it?"
Connor smiled faintly, brushing his thumb against her hand. "Yeah. Like we met before… somewhere else."
She smiled too. "If we did, I'm glad we found each other again."
He kissed her forehead, and for a moment, time stilled. The world was quiet. No monsters, no gods, no war. Just the heartbeat of two souls who had found peace in the only place left untouched by tragedy.
And somewhere far beyond their world, in the place between worlds, Edward watched silently.
The
He stood in the void, coat billowing in invisible wind, crimson eyes softened. "Good," he murmured to himself. "That's how it should be."
He turned away as the light of their world brightened, fading into eternity.
Back in London, Constantine sat in his flat, glass of whiskey in one hand, the city lights reflecting in the window. He could see the faint outline of Big Ben through the rain.
He raised his glass slightly toward the distance.
"To second chances," he said quietly. "And to those who earned 'em."
The sound of light footsteps appeared. Zatanna, wearing silk night dress stood at the door with an amused smile. " Seriously, who even gets a bottle of scotch as reward for the grail war! And I can't even stop you from drinking it since it's basically vegan alcohol."
Constantine took one last swig as he tossed it inside a portal. " Don't call it vegan, it's healthy alcohol." He walked towards her and hugged her. " You look absolutely ravishing in that dress luv."
Zatanna chuckled . "That's the alcohol in you talking."
Constantine held her close and whispered. " You are the prettiest girl in the world Z. I am lucky to have you with me. If I ever think of leaving, smack me with my bottle."
Zatanna smiled warmly. " John Constantine, a romantic. Who would have known?"
The clock struck midnight. Somewhere, a church bell rang. The rain kept falling, soft and endless.
And though the world had lost too much, for once, John Constantine allowed himself to believe that somewhere, in another place, another life, the right people got their happy ending.
He leaned back, closed his eyes and held the woman he loved closer, letting the sound of rain wash over him. He wouldn't change this even if he was offered the world.
*****
Holy Grail War arc officially over. Wrapped it up in one big chapter. And now we wait...