The spectral plains stretched endlessly, a shifting expanse of gray and black where the faint whispers of the mortal world barely reached. Here, time was meaningless, and the air—if it could be called that—hung heavy with the weight of forgotten memories and unspoken regrets. Phantoms drifted aimlessly, their forms half-real, clinging to fragments of who they had been in life.

Constantine moved through this realm like a shadow given purpose, his ghostly form crackling with newfound energy. His translucent figure pulsed faintly, the remnants of his spectral conquests trailing behind him like a wisp of smoke. Each step he took sent ripples through the ether, drawing the attention of the restless spirits.

They came to him, some drawn by curiosity, others by hunger. They believed themselves predators, seeking to consume him and grow stronger in their endless wandering. They were wrong.

The first phantom lunged at Constantine, its form shifting into something monstrous—a writhing mass of jagged teeth and hollow eyes. Constantine didn’t flinch. He raised his spectral hand, and a tendril of shadow lashed out, coiling around the phantom’s form. The creature writhed and screamed, its shrieks echoing through the plains as Constantine pulled it closer.

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“You’re nothing,” he said, his voice low and devoid of mercy. His grip tightened, the tendril of shadow seeping into the phantom’s core. Its cries grew weaker, dissolving into a faint whisper as Constantine absorbed its essence. The faint glow of ectoplasm coursed through him, his form solidifying slightly as his strength grew.

Another phantom, emboldened by desperation, charged from the darkness. Constantine turned to face it, his eyes narrowing. This one was larger, its form more defined—a reflection of the life it had clung to in death. It wielded electric energy, its jagged edges sparking as it struck at Constantine.

The blow landed, a surge of electricity rippling through Constantine’s form. He staggered slightly, but the faint smirk that crossed his lips betrayed his lack of concern. “You think pain matters to me?” he said, his voice a ghostly growl.

He raised his arms, the air around him growing colder. A wave of mist rolled outward, swallowing the phantom and blinding it. Constantine moved through the fog like a wraith, his presence a chilling void. He emerged behind the phantom, his hand plunging into its core. The creature howled as its energy was drained, its body collapsing into nothingness as Constantine consumed it.