Chapter 244 – Drawing Attention
Gideon took a pair of gloves from his backpack and retrieved a full set of surgical tools from the laboratory.
After cleansing the instruments with holy water to remove any lingering corruption, he picked up a scalpel and walked toward Madison.
At this moment, both halves of her body displayed eerily similar emotions.
One side streamed with tears.
The other trembled in fear and suspicion.
Gideon moved without hesitation.
The blade flashed.
A small lump of flesh was cleanly sliced off.
Before blood could properly spill from the wound, he had already dripped the healing potion onto it.
A layer of radiant white energy spread across Madison's arm, forming a protective membrane. Beneath it, the wound visibly knit itself back together.
"Impressive," Gideon murmured, raising an eyebrow.
"I'll need to have him make a few more of these."
With that, he activated the holy power in his eyes, using it to wrap the severed "lump" — along with the spirit inside — and transferred it onto the surgical table.
The isolation array had already been arranged.
Freed from Madison's body yet confined within the formation, the spirit regained limited mobility.
It took the form of a young man in a white hospital gown.
His face was twisted in terror.
"No… you can't do this!"
His figure flickered across the operating table, but he could not cross the boundary.
"Well then, Spirit Number One," Gideon said lightly, stepping aside to reveal the instrument tray behind him,
"please select your preferred experimental tool."
Scalpels.
Forceps.
Electrical equipment.
Whoever the Nazi doctor had been, incompetent or not, his toolkit had certainly been… comprehensive.
"I curse you! May you burn in hell!" the young spirit snarled.
"Easy there," Gideon replied calmly. "I'm a priest. You're the one who's been harming people."
According to the records, the spirits occupying the villa had killed many over the years.
For monsters who became what they once hated—victims turned predators—Gideon felt no sympathy.
The moment they chose to prey on the living, they forfeited that right.
"Time is limited," he continued pleasantly. "I'll choose for you."
The instant he spoke, the spirit felt a crushing resistance envelop its body.
A suffocating inertia.
It was forced flat against the surgical table.
Gideon focused intently.
Manipulating a spirit's movement through its surrounding energy was still difficult for him. It took time.
But eventually—
The spirit lay "obediently" in place.
"If you experience any discomfort during the procedure, please raise your right hand," Gideon said with a gentle smile.
"Of course, you will receive no assistance. And I will not stop."
To the spirit, that smile was indistinguishable from the Nazi doctor's.
Fear.
Pain.
Hatred.
Memories buried deep within its consciousness surged back to life.
Its mental state destabilized violently.
Dark, viscous evil energy seeped from its spiritual body.
"Excellent," Gideon thought.
But this was only the beginning.
Without further delay, he brought the scalpel down toward the spirit's mouth.
Because the blade was infused with holy power, the moment it made contact—
It sliced clean through the "tongue."
"Aaahhh—!"
A shriek echoed down the corridor.
A blackened tongue fell to the floor and quickly dissolved into ash.
Gideon had not literally severed a physical tongue.
Spirits were composed of spiritual particles infused with malevolent energy. Most retained their human appearance because of the resentment that fixed their forms at death.
His "surgery" was, in essence, a localized clash between holy power and corruption.
It simply manifested in the shape of a surgical procedure.
And it worked.
The moment the cut landed, the spirit erupted with an enormous surge of evil energy—nearly flooding the entire operating table.
Gideon's eyes lit up.
Immediately, he exchanged the skin of his left hand with that of his leg, then plunged his left hand into the churning darkness.
Crackling sounds filled the room.
Holy power and corruption collided again.
The previously scattered evil energy was drawn inward by a vortex swirling around his palm.
The young spirit felt its body weakening at a terrifying rate.
"You shameless bastard!" it screamed, eyes blazing red.
"I curse you! You will never enter heaven! Your descendants will be plagued by misfortune for eternity—!"
Gideon didn't even blink.
The vortex tightened.
And the harvesting continued.
Anger only caused the young spirit to leak even more malevolent energy.
Gideon immediately turned his head.
"Good. That was excellent. Say a few more."
"You—!!"
---
Exorcists' Guild – Main Hall
Beneath the three massive screens suspended overhead—
"Wait! Just a little longer!" a round, heavyset demon hunter pointed upward excitedly.
Three other exorcists stood behind him, judging by their attire.
"Mr. Charlie… we've been staring at this board for two minutes now. Are you sure you're actually on it?" one of them asked.
"You're good at long-range combat, sure—we've worked together before," another added carefully.
"But this time we accepted an 'Erosion'-level commission. Agility matters…"
Charlie immediately protested.
"Who says I'm not agile? Just because I'm built like this doesn't mean I'm slow! Even if five spirits jump me at once, I can move like a bird!"
The three exchanged skeptical looks.
"Charlie, we believe you. But we're almost at the scheduled time for the mission. We should get going."
"No! It's about to rotate to my name!"
He hurriedly blocked their path.
"There! Look!"
He pointed at the bottom line of the rotating display:
Exorcist ID 2368 – Demon Hunter Lightning Charlie
Total Resentment Value: 1,999 points
Rank: 1000
(Within the Guild, ID numbers were assigned using a "vacant succession" system.
When an exorcist died, their number was temporarily reserved. The Guild would audit any remaining assets.
If heirs existed, the assets were liquidated and transferred.
If unclaimed, they were absorbed into the Guild's reward pool.
The freed number would then be reassigned to the newest member—
which explained why Gideon's ID was higher than Charlie's.)
Back to the present—
Charlie puffed up proudly.
"When I first joined the Guild, I was a nobody…"
"My first Dangerous-level mission? I earned 700 resentment points off a single spirit!"
"It was a peaceful afternoon—everyone minding their own business—and then!"
His voice rose dramatically.
"A notification popped up on the screen—astonishing yet perfectly reasonable! Tell me, how many newcomers can pull that off?!"
He spoke with theatrical flair, clearly well-practiced.
But the three behind him weren't even looking at him anymore.
They were staring straight up.
"Hey! No need to admire it anymore. It already rotated past," Charlie muttered, pulling out a small notebook.
"Here, write this down—10:20 AM and 7 PM daily. That's when my name pauses for ten seconds…"
He scribbled quickly, tore out a page, and handed it over.
"You've got it now. Can we go pick a mission?"
Still no response.
"What? Did my name come back again?"
Charlie turned around.
Then his eyes widened.
On the live ticker:
Anonymous 947 – Resentment Value +8,000
Charlie rubbed his eyes.
"Holy Sun God… that thing's broken, right?!"
The entire hall fell silent.
Every head tilted upward.
Then the murmuring began.
"Eight thousand at once? That's Corruption-level!"
"No way. Corruption-level spirits are worth at least ten thousand. This is probably Dangerous-level."
"What Dangerous-level gives eight thousand in one go? Don't talk nonsense."
Arguments erupted across the hall.
"Anonymous 947? Who's that? I've never seen them on the rankings."
"Maybe a friend of one of the top twenty monsters—keeping a low profile."
"Impossible. ID 947 belonged to a wizard who died years ago."
"You're saying it's a newcomer? That's ridiculous! The big names from the Philadelphia High incident haven't even joined the Guild!"
"How do you know? Anonymous mode exists for a reason, idiot!"
"Bastard! Information gathering is my business—you're insulting my professionalism!"
"You don't even know who 947 is and you're talking about professionalism?"
"You wanna die?"
---
Manager Farlin Morgan stood calmly in the hall.
Seeing tensions rise, he made a subtle gesture.
Guild enforcers immediately stepped in.
After the scuffle was diffused, Farlin's expression turned serious as he looked at the screen.
Unlike others, he knew exactly who Anonymous 947 was.
After all, he had personally processed that man's membership.
He recalled the image clearly—
Disheveled appearance.
Ill-fitting suit.
Clueless about the Guild.
At the time, Farlin had assumed he was some provincial exorcist borrowing a friend's coin to buy materials.
He had even suspected him of theft.
But Guild staff were trained never to judge by appearance.
And yet—
"That man is powerful."
Farlin exhaled softly.
"First lesson of the Guild: never evaluate someone by how they look. I thought I understood that…"
He beckoned a bartender over.
"Mark Anonymous 947's identity as Sensitive-level for one month. Under my authority."
The bartender's eyes widened.
In the Guild, information security had three tiers: Risk, Sensitive, Top Secret.
Sensitive-level reports went directly to the Guild Master.
If deemed unjustified, Farlin could face punishment—even removal from his post.
But the bartender asked no questions.
"Understood."
As he left, Farlin murmured,
"Fortunately the crowd is small tonight. This should pass quietly…"
---
Back at the Villa
Gideon patted the spirit lying on the operating table.
"That's it? You hid in the shadows for decades and only accumulated this much corruption?"
His tone carried genuine disappointment.
The young spirit was barely holding its form.
Its body flickered weakly.
It didn't even have strength to curse anymore.
After a final vacant stare—
It dissolved into ash.
Gideon sighed.
"Too slow."
"If it could maintain form, there might still be residual source energy. Should've preserved it as remains."
Nearby, Madison's body trembled violently.
The eye that still belonged to Madison lowered in fear.
"Why did I provoke him…? They were right. I really am a stupid bitch…"
"If I survive this, I'm quitting the Guild. I'll go back to Hollywood. I'll be normal. I'll never exorcise again!"
Whether that wish would come true was another matter.
Meanwhile, the spirits trapped within her body were arguing chaotically.
"Can't you see?! He wants corruption! We sacrifice some of us so the rest escape!"
"Then you volunteer first!"
"Shut up, Andre! I'm doing this for everyone! I vote for you!"
"Vote your mother, Marcus!"
A voice interrupted.
"So… who's next?"
Gideon now stood beside Madison's body.
Every "bundle" of trapped spirits trembled.
"Reverend… we're willing to let some of us voluntarily release our corruption—if you let the others leave."
Marcus spoke.
Gideon shook his head.
"Too late."
"At the beginning, perhaps I would've agreed."
He sighed.
"But the first volunteer proved something."
"One spirit's corruption isn't nearly enough."
"I need more… much more…"
His fists tightened.
A greedy expression crossed his face.
"Volunteer?" the spirits echoed in disbelief.
The humiliation was unbearable.
Compared to this priest—
Their decades of murder seemed childish.
"You… you're really going to drive us into desperation?" Marcus growled.
Gideon's eyes lit up.
"You still have a trump card? Wonderful."
"Despair after exhausting all hope—that's what truly breaks the spirit."
"I look forward to your performance on the operating table."
With a casual gesture—
The bundle containing Marcus floated into the air.
"Wait! That was just bravado! I didn't mean it!"
Marcus' trembling voice echoed through the lab.
And Gideon smiled.