With a sweep of his wrist, Constantine's worn leather trench coat fluttered open, revealing a twisted, blackened crucifix adorned with strange symbols and gemstones. It hummed with dark energy as he held it aloft, the relic serving as his focus for the arcane arts. The demon, its grotesque form writhing in agony, clawed at the energy beam searing its flesh, letting out a blood-curdling scream that echoed through the night.
The train's horn blared a warning, a monstrous beast hurtling toward him with deadly precision. The engineer's frantic attempts to brake were futile against the massive weight of the locomotive. Yet Constantine's gaze never wavered; he poured every ounce of his arcane power into the ritual, the air around him crackling with energy as the train bore down.
At that moment, the framework of reality seemed to tear asunder, the boundaries between worlds blurring. The demon's screams crescendoed, mingling with the train's horn, a cacophony of impending doom. But Constantine stood firm, a solitary figure against the tide of darkness, determined to vanquish the horrors that lurked beyond.
As the train thundered closer, he felt the weight of his choices pressing down on him. This was just another day in the life of a man who had made a pact with the devil himself, and he would not let it end here.