Chapter 217 – Gideon's Sincerity
Lynn lowered her voice.
"Father Gideon… we only just escaped from it. We should report this to the Church and let them handle it."
She had originally thought this mission would be rated 'Corruption'.
Who could have imagined it escalating all the way to 'Danger'?
That they had managed to escape safely was thanks not only to Father Gideon—but also to sheer luck.
Because of that, Lynn dared not hope for more.
Beside her, Judy widened her eyes, gaining a whole new understanding of just how thick-skinned her teacher could be.
The Native American wraith seemed to hear a joke. It stared at Gideon and said coldly,
"You hypocritical believer. One day, you will all pay the price."
Seeing that it neither begged nor showed fear—rather, it looked ready to die—
Gideon realized the wraith wasn't intimidated by the Church at all.
So he switched to his backup plan.
"You all wait in the car," Gideon said calmly.
"I'll talk to it alone."
He walked a short distance away and even beckoned the Native American spirit over.
The wraith didn't understand why, but still drifted closer.
"I know you've endured immense suffering," Gideon said, staring straight at it.
"The people who persecuted you truly deserve to burn in hell."
At once, a thick crimson aura surged from the spirit's body—
the manifestation of the Sin of Hatred.
"We don't need false sympathy," the wraith sneered.
Several overlapping voices echoed from its throat.
Gideon shook his head.
"Relax. I'm just helping you see reality clearly."
"You've lingered here for decades, retaining intelligence and will. That alone proves how deep your obsession runs."
"But the Church's influence covers all of North America. Killing a handful of innocent passersby means nothing."
"If you want revenge, you should aim at the right people—shouldn't you?"
He paused deliberately, waiting.
The crimson aura fluctuated slightly.
There was hope.
"Hmph. Even so, that person is already dead. We can no longer do anything."
Gideon's eyes lit up.
If the enemy were a powerful figure still alive within the Church, he'd need another angle.
But if the man was already dead—
"Then this is easy," Gideon said, waving his hand.
"Tormenting souls is your specialty, isn't it?"
His voice carried unmistakable temptation.
"Give me a name. I'll dig him up."
"Someone like that doesn't deserve to lie in the Lord's soil."
The Native American spirit fell silent.
It scrutinized Gideon for a long moment before speaking in a strange tone.
"How does the Church produce someone like you?"
Gideon smiled faintly.
"If mercy and justice are nothing more than masks for evil, then having more of those people is meaningless—don't you think?"
Silence again.
But before Gideon's eyes, confirmation appeared:
[Apostle of Sin +1]
The spirit had wavered.
After a long pause, it finally spoke.
"Hundreds of years ago, a multi-masted sailing ship anchored along the bay. That was when our nightmare began."
"They seized our land with firearms. Women, children—none were spared. We resisted, but it only brought even bloodier massacres."
"Perhaps killing eventually bored them. Later, those devils proposed to 'help rebuild Indian homes'…"
The spirit let out a mocking laugh.
"They forcibly took our children and subjected them to their education. Today, our descendants identify themselves as 'North Americans'."
"Our land was turned into schools, conveniently labeled 'public property'."
"But the most detestable of all was the Church."
"No matter age or gender, everyone was forced to accept the 'Lord's' faith—or face death."
"And all of this was done by a man named Johnny Bartolome."
Gideon raised an eyebrow.
He had read about that man before.
Johnny had once made tremendous contributions to early missionary work in North America and was praised as "the one who brought light."
Who would have thought there was such darkness hidden behind that title?
"If I remember correctly," Gideon said calmly,
"Father Johnny's grave… should be nearby."
"Hmph. You even built a memorial park for him," the Native American spirit sneered.
Gideon ignored the sarcasm and continued,
"To show my sincerity, I'll go there right now."
"But before that, you are not to harm anyone in the surrounding area again."
The spirit gave no reply—but inside the villa, the corrosive green slime quietly dissipated.
Gideon returned to the pickup truck.
After brushing off the others' questions with a few vague explanations, he drove to the edge of the residential area.
From there, he headed alone toward the nearby memorial park.
---
It was still early. The park was nearly empty.
At its center stood a massive bronze statue—over ten meters tall—depicting a man holding a Bible.
Behind the statue lay Father Johnny's grave.
Gideon carried a borrowed shovel and circled around to the tombstone.
After checking that no one was watching, he lifted the shovel and dug his first scoop of earth.
At the far end of the path, a group of visitors happened to arrive.
> "In the early days of North America, this land was plagued by great evil,"
a clergyman dressed in church robes explained as a guide.
"It was Father Johnny who saved the native people, leading them out of suffering."
> "He now rests here. Though his soul has ascended to Heaven, his remains stay behind to accompany the faithful."
Meanwhile, Gideon had already uncovered a pitch-black coffin.
He gently pried open the lid.
Inside lay a skeleton, its arms folded around a Bible.
"Oh—an ancient Bible," Gideon noted quietly.
He sensed pure spiritual energy within it—perfect material for Judy's future spiritual awakening.
At the same time, there were no traces of skeletal-type holy arts on the remains.
So Father Johnny had not been a Bone Manifestation cleric.
"You've been underground long enough," Gideon murmured, patting the skull lightly.
"Let's get you some fresh air."
Though buried for many years, faint traces of soul-energy still lingered on the remains.
Which meant the spirit outside had been telling the truth only partially—
Father Johnny's soul had never truly ascended to Heaven.
After restoring the grave to its original state, Gideon leapt away through the treetops.
Not long after he left, the visitors arrived.
"Father Johnny rests here," the guide intoned solemnly.
"Let us remember his great contributions. Amen."
---
412 Ocean Avenue. A secluded corner.
"Is this him?" Gideon asked.
He pulled a skull from a burlap sack.
There was no need for further confirmation—the spirit's reaction said everything.
"Yes! Give him to me!" the Native American spirit roared.
"I will never forget that bastard's stench!"
Gideon tossed the remaining bones into the sack and extended his hand.
"I've shown enough sincerity. Now it's your turn."
The spirit stared at the sack and said,
"Speak. What do you want?"
"The evil energy bound to you," Gideon replied calmly.
This time, without hesitation, bones erupted from the soil around them.
"These are…?" Gideon asked.
"My people," the spirit said quietly.
"To prepare for revenge, they gave up reincarnation and let their souls be devoured by me. Only then could I continue existing in this world."
Gideon raised an eyebrow.
The bones were indeed saturated with dense evil energy.
After tossing Johnny's upper body over, Gideon claimed the remains.
He immediately set up a formation and began cultivating his Flesh Vessel.
If any other cleric were present, they would have been utterly stunned.
Evil remains from a ground-bound spirit's territory were extremely rare.
Not only did they require a powerful spirit to form, but they also needed decades—sometimes centuries—to accumulate.
Refining even a small fragment could sustain a cleric's cultivation for years.
And now Gideon had an entire pile.
As his palm touched the evil aura, holy and corrupt forces rapidly neutralized each other.
His skin underwent a fundamental transformation.
Fingertips. Palm. Forearm.
The flesh reorganized itself at a structural level—each refinement made it tougher, faint holy radiance spreading across its surface.
But the evil energy was consumed rapidly.
By the time his right hand was fully reforged, most of the remains had been used up.
He set aside a few bones, planning to give them to Lynn later.
After all, she had protected Judy in the cellar.
Still, Gideon shook his head inwardly.
"Even at my speed, this is slow… I can't imagine how many years it takes non–bone-manifestation clerics."
If other clerics heard this, they'd probably curse him in prayer.
Under normal circumstances, reforging even one finger would take at least three months.
His speed was several times faster than average.
---
The spirit spoke again.
"So your Church strengthens itself through evil. Strange."
Gideon shrugged.
"I find it strange too."
"If you've verified the remains," the spirit said,
"give me the lower half. Otherwise, I can't summon the attached soul."
Gideon rubbed his nose.
"Of course… but I see you still have plenty of evil energy left, so maybe—"
"Despicable liar!" the spirit howled.
"You break your word!"
Gideon looked wronged.
"I took a huge risk stealing these remains."
"You know Johnny was highly revered. There's even a ten-meter bronze statue of him. When I went, people were paying tribute."
He talked about risk—but knew full well the Church wouldn't notice anytime soon.
After all, exchanging saintly remains for evil materials was unprecedented in Church history.
The spirit didn't know that.
And so, the poor Native American spirit was nearly drained dry.
"Enough!" it roared.
"I still need strength to finish my revenge!"
Reluctantly, Gideon withdrew his hand.
Even so, he had fully reforged his left hand—more than enough gain.
---
Soon after, the spirit used an unknown method.
A faint soul floated up from Johnny's remains.
"Old friend… do you remember me?"
The spirit's voice trembled with suppressed excitement.
At first, Johnny's soul wavered—but soon recognized the situation.
"You… Powhatan?!" it exclaimed.
"You still remain in this world?!"
"And you don't?" Powhatan sneered.
Johnny frowned, scanning his surroundings.
This was not his resting place.
Gideon had already hidden himself—he had no intention of being seen.
"What do you want?!" Johnny's voice shook.
"Executioner," Powhatan hissed.
"The blood debt of the Powhatan Alliance is due."
Johnny's agonized screams soon echoed through the night.
When Gideon returned, Johnny was gone.
He didn't ask what happened.
Anyone capable of such crimes should have expected this day.
---
"Ready to be purified?" Gideon asked Powhatan.
"Hmph. Aren't you afraid I'll go back on my word?"
Powhatan stared at him.
"Now I have leverage on you too."
Gideon knew he meant grave robbery—but didn't care.
"It doesn't matter. Staying here only wastes your existence."
"Reincarnate. Live a real life."
"And with the evil power you still possess, I could destroy you alone."
He shrugged lightly.
"I'm giving you dignity. That's all."
Powhatan studied him deeply.
"You truly are different from the others."
"Perhaps we'll meet again."
Gideon smiled.
"Then you'd better be a good person—otherwise I might dig up your grave too."
"Heh. Is this what humans call humor?"
"Oh, one more thing," Gideon added.
"You still have the DeFeo family's souls. They were innocent."
Powhatan hesitated.
To it, all pale-skinned people were scum.
But in the end, it complied.
Old Ronald's spirit reappeared on the lawn.
Powhatan had only eroded his soul, not consumed it.
Seeing the Native American spirit again, the DeFeos collapsed in terror.
Yet when they saw the priest standing calmly beside it, they were utterly shocked.
Deep resentment and cooperation with clergy rarely coexisted.
Gideon quickly arranged the holy artifacts.
Opening the Gospel, he sent both Powhatan and the DeFeo family to eternal rest.
---
At the entrance of the residential area.
"The house has been fully purified," Gideon said, handing over a business card.
"If you need help again, contact me here."
"Of course, services are billed separately."
Kathy immediately clung to George.
They had invested everything in this house—abandoning it would mean ruin.
Gideon warned them not to take advantage of such bargains again.
Then he left with Judy and Lynn.
On the way back, he handed the evil remains to the nun.
"I—I can't accept this!" Lynn exclaimed.
She knew its value far too well.
Gideon replied,
"You protected Judy in the cellar. That's why I could act freely."
"And this also covers confidentiality."
He met her eyes.
"Cooperating with evil spirits isn't something the Church encourages."
Lynn swallowed hard.
"Encourages? It's outright forbidden," she thought.
But outwardly she nodded solemnly.
"I swear to the Lord—I'll keep this secret."
Not only because Gideon saved her life.
But because she desperately needed that material.
Gideon smiled faintly.
He had already prepared countermeasures if necessary.
"Oh—one more thing," Lynn said, handing him a note.
"This is a lead on saintly remains."
Gideon pocketed it, planning to study it later.
---
After seeing Lynn off, he and Judy headed back.
Dey Street. House of Rest.
As they arrived, a familiar figure stood at the door.
"Bente?"
Bente turned around, his face full of grief.
Gideon narrowed his eyes.
"What happened?"
"Zal is dead," Bente said hoarsely.
"And Silas… betrayed the Church."
Gideon was startled.
He remembered them clearly—his very first assignment from Dey Seminary had come from those two.
Before he could ask more, Bente dropped another bombshell.
"Archbishop Jolan… was taken away by envoys from the Vatican for violating Church law."