In the heart of a storm-ravaged battlefield, Constantine stands firm, his silhouette illuminated by flashes of lightning. Before him, a monstrous entity towers above, its form shifting between shadow and flame, eyes burning like molten gold. The air crackles with energy, and the very ground trembles beneath the weight of the impending confrontation.

Rain lashes against his coat, yet he strides forward without hesitation. Each step echoes with defiance, the chains of fate rattling in the storm’s howling winds. Ancient runes glow faintly along his arms, whispering forgotten incantations as he prepares to face the unknown.

The beast lets out a guttural roar, shaking the heavens and the earth alike. Its tendrils of smoke and ember swirl violently, consuming the battlefield in an eerie, apocalyptic glow. Yet Constantine does not falter.

With a flick of his wrist, he draws his blade—a relic forged from celestial steel. The storm rages on, but in this moment, time seems to stand still. The clash is inevitable. Destiny awaits, and only one will walk away from the abyss.