Chapter 214: The Weakened DeFeo Family
The moment the words left his mouth, the DeFeo family recoiled in shock.
"You… are you possessed by a demon?"
Old Ronald's gaze was sharp as he scrutinized the priest before him.
The Church had always proclaimed itself the embodiment of mercy and salvation—since when did it engage in seizing souls?
Gideon smiled faintly.
"Your souls are tainted by evil. Without thorough purification, you will never reach a place of rest."
"As for how to do that…"
He extended a hand. Instantly, the DeFeo family retreated a step.
"Sorry," Gideon said, clapping his hands lightly. His expression returned to normal.
"I got a bit carried away."
"I can complete the purification by directly touching your souls. What do you think?"
The DeFeos exchanged glances.
Weren't they supposed to be the hunters? How had the situation reversed so completely?
Seeing their hesitation, Gideon reached into his bag and took out several items.
"Here—tokens issued by the Church. This is Vatican certification. These relics carry pure holy power…"
Soon, the ground was covered with objects.
"These should be more than enough to prove my identity," Gideon said, spreading his hands.
Behind him, Lynn stood frozen, mouth agape.
At first, she had thought Gideon's exorcism methods were merely unconventional—perhaps even showy. That sort of thing was not uncommon within the Church.
But then the spirits had actually stopped attacking.
Her understanding of "exorcism" shattered.
In every past mission she had taken part in, clergy walked a razor's edge between life and death.
Evil, mental corruption, infighting among teammates—
One moment of carelessness was enough to lose everything.
Spirits were volatile, unpredictable. No one dared negotiate with them.
Every cleric knew one truth:
To survive a mission, you resisted the spirits and purified them as fast as possible.
Never—never—had she seen humans actively approaching spirits, while the spirits themselves became the passive side.
---
On the other side, perhaps sensing Gideon's "sincerity," old Ronald finally spoke.
"Maybe what you say is true," he said slowly, "but we have no choice."
Gideon raised an eyebrow.
"Oh? What difficulty could possibly be beyond my ability to solve?"
Old Ronald gave a hollow chuckle.
"You think we chose to stay here?"
He swept a hand across his chest.
His torso split open.
A beating heart was revealed—transparent, formed entirely of spiritual substance.
Carved across it were strange runic patterns.
They radiated dense resentment, binding the spirit-heart in place like chains.
"This land once belonged to them. Now they have placed shackles upon us," Ronald said quietly.
"If we disobey their commands, our souls will be erased from existence."
Gideon rubbed his chin.
"Them… meaning?"
Ronald raised his hand.
A black shadow burst out of the house and dropped to the ground.
Gideon looked down.
It was a tattered, bloodstained garment—clearly belonging to an Indigenous tribe.
"Centuries ago," Ronald said, closing his eyes,
"our ancestors trampled this land and brought death and suffering to its people."
Gideon looked thoughtful.
"I didn't expect you to have such clarity."
"History will be written clearly one day," Ronald replied.
Then he added,
"If you can remove these shackles, I am willing to cooperate with you."
"Oh?" Gideon looked at him closely. "You trust me?"
"Of course," Ronald said. "You've already proven yourself."
He forced a smile—but it only made his face look more grotesque.
Gideon narrowed his eyes, studying him for a long moment before finally nodding.
"Very well. I can try."
"What do you need me to do?" Ronald asked.
Gideon pointed to a spot on the ground.
"Stand there. And the rest of you—each stand where I indicate."
The DeFeo family quickly followed his instructions.
Gideon stepped in front of old Ronald.
Ronald opened his chest again, willingly offering up his spirit-heart.
"You may begin at any time," he said, arms spread wide.
But Gideon did not move.
Confusion flickered across the dead man's face.
"There's something that's been bothering me," Gideon said calmly, lifting his gaze.
"If these shackles force you to obey them, and if they are the ones who murdered your entire family—"
"Then under those circumstances, your level of enlightenment is… difficult for me to understand."
Ronald's brow tightened, but he answered,
"After experiencing death, many things lose their weight."
Gideon nodded slowly, as if enlightened.
"I see. But from beginning to end, I've only said that I can purify you."
His eyes grew placid.
"And yet, knowing that a failed attempt could cause your soul to vanish completely, you still dared to let me try."
He looked straight at Ronald.
"So tell me—"
"There isn't a trap hidden in this… is there?"
The instant his words fell, old Ronald's expression turned feral.
The spirit-heart inside his chest suddenly swelled—then burst apart.
Putrid green sludge erupted outward like a geyser.
At the same time, the other DeFeo spirits moved in unison. The grass beneath them blackened rapidly, corroded to pitch-dark soil.
But then—
they froze.
The dark-green fluid merely pooled within the area. Not a single drop spilled beyond it.
And the priest remained standing at the center—completely unharmed.
What… was this?
Ronald scanned the surroundings in disbelief and quickly noticed the anomaly.
A faint white glow shimmered across the ground, enclosing the DeFeo family like a transparent cylinder.
"What is this?!" His voice was hoarse now, stripped of all pretense.
Gideon shrugged.
"Just a simple small-scale isolation formation."
He gestured around them.
"I prepared dozens of these—just to make sure you'd fall into one."
Ronald let out a bone-chilling roar, his face tearing into an exaggerated, grotesque shape.
Meanwhile, Gideon casually walked in a circle, inspecting his handiwork.
"The report mentioned 3:15 a.m. I figured that was the only time you could use your power, so I set everything up openly."
He reached out and lightly poked Mrs. DeFeo.
"Judging by the result, my guess was right."
"You despicable bastard!" Ronald snarled through clenched teeth.
"Likewise," Gideon clapped his hands.
"I'm just using the same tricks you use on humans—on you."
He hadn't told the whole truth.
Though he'd been suspicious, Gideon hadn't found solid proof—
until Ronald mentioned the shackles.
At that moment, murky yellow-green energy surged within the spirit's body.
With [Envoy of Sin], Gideon immediately recognized the emotion it represented—
Deceit.
That was when he chose to play along.
---
Back in the present, Ronald tried breaking free several more times—without success.
Finally, he turned back to the priest.
"What do you want?"
Gideon rolled up his sleeves, his gaze fixed squarely on the DeFeo family.
"I already told you—your souls."
He wrapped several crucifixes around his wrist and poured holy water over his forearm.
Then he extended his hand into the formation and looked straight at Ronald.
"Reveal the totems."
Ronald instinctively leaned back—only to hit the barrier behind him.
He could only watch helplessly as that hand reached toward him.
"No… damn it… no…"
He looked like a victim now—utterly defenseless.
"Resistance is pointless," Gideon said gently, his voice almost persuasive.
"As long as your family cooperates, I promise I won't harm you afterward."
"You have nowhere left to run."
Ronald looked at his family, despair filling his eyes.
In the end, he yielded.
---
Buzz… buzz…
Gideon's hand hovered above the spirit-heart.
On this point, Ronald hadn't lied—the totems truly were the source of the evil binding him.
The moment Gideon's palm touched the corruption, something attempted to invade his body.
Sensation. Reflex. Control.
All of it scrambled for a split second.
He suppressed the instinct to recoil and let holy power flow across his skin.
When the two forces collided, the skin of his palm hardened—dense, resilient.
At the same time, he felt a connection form.
A strange sensation.
Like how blinking is effortless because you have full control—
while moving your ears usually isn't.
Most people lack that control—until they learn it.
And now, Gideon had it.
If he wished, he could shift the skin of his palm elsewhere.
Slowly.
Within the confines of his hand.
That was because he'd only reconstructed a tiny portion—and lacked replacement "shells."
Instant conversion was still far off.
To progress, he would need to keep exposing himself to evil—gradually reshaping his entire body.
But the process was far from simple.
---
Gideon looked up.
Ronald's spirit had grown extremely faint. The totems' evil aura was nearly depleted.
Yet Gideon had only reforged a patch of skin the size of a fingernail.
"Still a long road ahead…" he thought.
Then he asked aloud,
"Can you borrow a bit more… evil from them?"
Ronald nearly dispersed on the spot.
Borrow it?!
Did he think this was a mortgage?!
His eyes burned with fury.
Every priest he'd ever encountered treated evil like lethal poison.
And this bastard had practically drained him dry.
This was the darkest day Ronald had experienced since becoming a spirit.
"So emotions alone don't generate evil…" Gideon noted regretfully.
He then turned his gaze to Mrs. DeFeo.
She looked to Ronald for help.
---
Some time later, the DeFeo family slumped to the ground.
Their spirits flickered, barely holding form, exhaustion etched across faces that shouldn't feel fatigue.
Gideon, meanwhile, remained energetic.
He took out holy oil and applied it to his palm.
[Ignatian Exercises +1]
Since discovering that holy oil accelerated flesh reconstruction, he had already used three full bottles—
All twenty-year aged holy oil.
He crouched beside young Ronald.
"Hey, rested yet? There's still some left on those totems."
Because he had murdered his family in life, the younger Ronald carried the densest corruption.
Gideon finally reconstructed another small patch of skin.
One portion he transferred to his heart.
The other remained in his palm.
Now, if faced with a fatal blow, he had a margin for error.
Tiny runes appeared across the skin—
The hallmark of Flesh Manifestation.
---
Young Ronald collapsed completely, ignoring Gideon's threats.
Any more loss of corruption, and his spirit would vanish entirely.
Gideon sighed, mildly disappointed.
But he couldn't push further—this family still needed to contribute to [Envoy of Sin] proficiency later.
At that moment, a small figure peeked out from the veranda.
It was the youngest daughter—Judy DeFeo.
With the corruption weakened, she finally dared approach her family.
Gideon considered for a moment, then beckoned her over.
Seeing the priest apparently getting along with her family, the little spirit approached without fear.
"No—please don't hurt her!"
Mrs. DeFeo cried out in terror, forcing herself upright in a desperate attempt to cooperate again.
"Why does everyone make me sound like a villain?" Gideon muttered.
But the isolation barrier prevented her from intervening.
After securing the little spirit safely, Gideon waved Lynn over.
The nun had witnessed everything.
Seeing the spirits reduced to this state left her utterly shaken.
One hand.
That was all it took.
A miracle.
She approached cautiously.
"What… do you need me to do?" she asked softly.
Gideon pointed to the spirit girl.
"I promised you."
Though she wasn't fully corrupted, prolonged exposure had stained her.
Gideon didn't want to waste that—and he wanted to see how others cultivated.
Lynn froze in shock after hearing his plan.
"Using sentient evil spirits to reconstruct flesh?"
She stared at him as if he'd gone mad.
"What's wrong?" Gideon frowned.
Lowering her voice, Lynn explained,
"Evil attached to living spirits is extremely unstable. Direct contact consumes massive holy power and carries a high risk of backlash…"
Only then did Gideon realize—
Most clergy used remnants of evil to cultivate.
No one manhandled spirits like this.
He handed Lynn the bloodstained Indigenous garment instead.
It, too, carried lingering corruption.
Her eyes lit up.
She never expected him to give such material away.
In past missions, clergy hoarded anything related to evil.
She wanted to store it—but Gideon told her to use it immediately.
"I… I want to take it back," she pleaded.
He raised an eyebrow.
"Don't you plan to use it yourself?"
She fell silent—and yielded.
Lynn knelt, pulled out a tiny bottle of holy oil, and carefully applied the final drop to her fingertip.
Then, solemnly, she reached toward the bloodied cloth.
The moment they touched—
Her face twisted in agony.
She clutched her wrist, chest heaving violently.
A gust of wind rose around her.
Gideon narrowed his eyes—holy power was draining rapidly.
From his perspective, Lynn's sanctity was collapsing as corruption invaded.
Her fingers turned bluish-black, dark veins crawling beneath the skin.
Seeing the situation spiral, Gideon immediately pulled her away and uncorked a vial of holy water.
Sssss—
White vapor erupted from her hand as the darkness receded.
"Hah… hah…"
Lynn collapsed onto the grass, gasping for breath, sweat soaking her hairline.