Hell's Redeemer

Chapter 56

The group of Exorcists landed silently in the dark, narrow alley, their wings folding behind them as they surveyed the surroundings. Lute stepped forward, her gaze drawn to the faint remnants of a strange energy hanging in the air, almost like a trace of warmth in the otherwise bleak atmosphere.

Her eyes narrowed as she scanned the alley, her attention quickly falling on the faint, scattered ashes lying on the ground. She knelt down, reaching out her prosthetic hand, but didn't touch them, sensing the residual energy they held. Even in their burnt state, the ashes emitted a faint trace of divine resonance, laced with something darker, something wholly unnatural.

One of the Exorcists leaned in close. "Commander, could this be the source of what we felt?"

Lute didn’t respond immediately, her gaze locked on the ashes as if piecing together a puzzle. "It’s possible," she finally murmured, her tone thoughtful yet wary. "Someone, or something, wielded an unnatural mix of divine and infernal energy here. And whatever this was, it was powerful enough that even burning it left traces."

She stood, a look of grim determination crossing her face. "This wasn't ordinary Hell magic. We're dealing with someone who shouldn't be able to wield this sort of power at all. Stay alert. We need more information before we make any assumptions."
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After being dumped back into Pentagram City with little more than a flash and a smirk from Asmodeus, Spawn took a moment to orient himself. The part of town he’d landed in was rougher than anything he’d seen yet—dark alleyways tangled with broken neon signs, abandoned buildings with shattered windows, and a heavy, oppressive air that made the rest of the city feel almost tame in comparison. Graffiti lined the crumbling walls, and the occasional flicker of a streetlight did little to chase away the shadows.

Spawn glanced around, taking in the surroundings with mild disinterest. The decay was familiar; it reminded him of the worst parts of New York. And yet, despite the unwelcoming atmosphere, he felt no particular urge to stay and explore. It wasn’t as if this city had anything new to throw at him that he hadn’t already seen.

Without a second thought, Spawn closed his eyes, focusing his energy. In a swift, silent motion, he felt the familiar sensation of necroplasmic energy coil around him, wrapping him in darkness. A heartbeat later, he was gone from the slums and reappeared back in the library of the Hazbin Hotel.

As the world settled back into focus, Spawn took in the quiet, dusty shelves around him. This was a place he’d started to feel almost comfortable in. The familiar, quiet gloom of the library was a relief after the chaos he’d been thrown into. He loosened his cape around him, letting it fall more naturally, and took a long, steadying breath.

As Spawn took in the familiar silence of the library, he was surprised to hear a soft voice behind him.

"Where have you been, Al?" Charlie's voice was gentle but laced with genuine concern. She stood near one of the bookcases, arms crossed and watching him with a mixture of worry and curiosity.

Spawn shifted slightly, keeping his expression neutral. "Just… around," he said vaguely, not really meeting her eyes.

Charlie raised an eyebrow, tilting her head with a small sigh. "I know you value your privacy, and I respect that. But if you're getting into anything dangerous, I need to know." There was a trace of fear in her eyes, and he could tell she was being honest. She didn't want to pry, but she also didn’t want him to be in harm’s way—or to bring trouble to the hotel.

He nodded, taking a step closer. "I'm not causing problems, Charlie. Actually," he paused, trying to find the right words. "If anything, I’ve been… doing what you wanted. Trying to make connections. You know, reaching out."