Chapter 152 — The True Goal Behind the Attack
Rage burned through Samail's veins—but after a moment, he forced himself to calm down.
If the opponent could trap him within this barrier, then obscuring his senses was hardly surprising.
"Hmph. If you think imprisoning me will stop the slaughter…"
He gestured lazily to his side.
One of the black-robed followers immediately uncorked a vial of dark liquid.
Gideon's eyes narrowed slightly, but he said nothing.
Crack… crack…
The man's body twisted grotesquely as the potion took effect.
His muscles swelled, bones cracked, skin split—
until what remained was a hulking, twisted abomination.
From every angle, it was unmistakably a monster—
brutal, deranged, and overflowing with destructive power.
"There are more of my men near the hospital," Samail said coldly.
"Every single one of them carries a vial just like this."
His expression darkened.
"If I don't return within the allotted time…"
he leaned closer to the barrier, voice low—
"…you know what will happen.
Especially on a day like today."
He expected hesitation, fear—
a crack in the priest's composure.
After all, "mercy" was supposed to be the Church's sacred virtue.
But then…
Samail once again met that look.
That same infuriating look.
"What's with your expression?" Samail's tone sharpened.
Gideon sighed.
"You cultists really need fresh ideas. Still using mutation potions? Seriously?"
He gestured dismissively.
"And trading away intelligence for brute force? That's practically begging for unpredictability."
Samail's brow twitched.
Gideon continued calmly:
"These mutations might be useful on a battlefield, sure.
But for covert operations? It's idiotic."
He spread his hands, utterly relaxed.
"All you're doing is shortening your evacuation window…
and guaranteeing you'll attract someone you really don't want as an enemy."
A beat of silence fell.
The surrounding black-robed followers exchanged glances, each thinking the same thing:
…He's not wrong.
Samail's face darkened to a stormy black.
"Hmph. I don't need you teaching us how to do our work."
Gideon only shrugged.
"By the way—when you say 'your men,'" he added casually,
"you mean the forty-two black-robed followers at the hospital's south exit, west exit, and the North Wing parking lot?"
His lips curved.
"What do you think happened to them?"
Samail froze.
That number—forty-two—was exact.
A cold feeling crept down his spine.
"That's impossible!"
He forced the words out.
Those who consumed the potion were far stronger than standard evil spirits—
fast, violent, and bolstered by a shred of the True Lord's corruption.
Even if outnumbered, they shouldn't have been wiped out so quickly.
Seeing Samail still clinging to denial, Gideon casually flicked a bottle of holy water toward the mutated creature.
The monster reacted instantly, jaws snapping open as it swallowed the projectile whole.
A heartbeat later—
"Mro—AAAACK!!"
A howl of agony erupted from deep in its throat.
The monster collapsed into liquefied flesh within seconds.
Samail's pupils constricted.
Cold sweat beaded along his forehead.
"To purify a servitor so easily… that takes at least eight-year holy water," he muttered.
"Wasting something that valuable on a disposable beast—
are you trying to show off how rich you are?"
He fell silent, mind racing for a way out.
After a moment, he finally asked:
"…What do you want?"
A person didn't kill immediately unless they still wanted something.
Gideon replied calmly:
"Your organization's real objective.
And what you plan to do at the Remembrance Day ceremony."
Samail's eyes darted left and right, weighing the risks.
"Remove this barrier first," he countered. "Then we talk."
Gideon shook his head.
"Don't waste my time."
He raised his crucifix and opened his exorcism tome.
"In the name of the Father, and the Son, bless me with Your power—"
Samail's eyes flickered with shock.
He knows full ritual exorcism?
This kid is definitely from an ancient lineage…
Still, he sneered inwardly.
Today's memorial was one where the Church attended merely as an "observer."
A thousand eyes were watching, waiting for one mistake.
If a major demonic incident occurred, the Church's reputation would be shredded.
He had leverage—and he knew it.
But the moment the searing holy radiance washed over him,
Samail's smirk shattered.
This wasn't intimidation—
This priest actually meant to purify him!
Do you not understand the rules?!
His heart plunged into icy dread.
Normally the sequence should be:
You scare me a little → I pretend to compromise →
We sit down and negotiate → Everyone survives.
Faith was important—
but nowhere near as important as not dying.
But this madman wasn't negotiating.
He'd flipped the entire table!
"WAIT!"
Samail finally shouted.
"I can—hey! Can you STOP first?!"
But the priest kept chanting.
Just as Samail thought he was about to be erased from existence,
the chanting finally stopped.
The burning sensation faded.
Gideon folded his arms and gave him an expectant look.
Having seen enough of this young man's "negotiation style,"
Samail didn't dare stall anymore.
He immediately offered something valuable.
"…The ones planning to attack the ceremony are called The Wings of Vengeance," he said.
"They worship a fallen angel that crashed to earth a thousand years ago."
"The child disappearances, the severed limbs—they're all their doing.
They've been collecting… certain materials.
Likely for a massive sacrificial ritual."
Gideon's brows tightened.
He quickly connected this to earlier incidents.
"And your organization?" he pressed.
"This time we struck a deal with the 'angel' faction.
We agreed to sell them a batch of children."
"The trading site is the ceremony?"
"Correct.
Those children will perform as part of the choir.
And if our intel is right, those lunatics have already set up a ritual array there."
"Why such a high-profile method?"
Samail snorted.
"Ask them. Those freaks aren't sane. Who knows what goes on in their twisted heads."
"Who is your mole inside the Church?"
Samail hesitated… then answered:
"Hans Hermann.
The bishop of Dey Church."
Beside him, Lorraine inhaled sharply.
Even knowing the truth beforehand,
hearing it straight from the enemy still hit hard.
But before she could speak—
Gideon suddenly slammed a fist onto the barrier.
"Absurd!"
He glared with righteous fury.
"Archbishop Hermann is a respected servant of God!
How dare you slander him?!"
Lorraine almost choked on her own breath.
If she didn't already know Gideon had exposed Hans earlier,
she would've thought the two were old friends.
"…Is this what they call 'the exorcist's professional ethics'?"
Lorraine clutched the Safety Manual.
She vowed she'd reread it carefully later.
"Hmph.
Seems that old man really has been playing his role well,"
Samail muttered resentfully.
"Philadelphia Disability Relief Center.
You'll find your proof there."
Gideon's expression turned dark,
as if still processing the "shocking accusation" about Hans.
"What's your purpose in attacking the Warren family?" he asked after steadying his tone.
This time, Samail lifted a finger and pointed.
"I've shown you sincerity.
Now it's your turn."
Gideon frowned.
"What you said just now is unverified.
It proves nothing."
"Heh."
Samail chuckled.
"But you already know the real answer…
don't you?"
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