High in the air, the wind screamed past.
The weightless feeling swallowed Rose whole. She could feel her body starting to drop.
Her eyes squeezed shut. Her mind went completely blank.
I'm dead…
That was her last thought.
Right as the fall began, Soren stomped down hard again.
Vrrrrrm—
A ring of crimson demonic energy flared under his foot like solid ground.
[Demon · Double Jump]
Using the rebound, his falling body defied every law of physics and shot straight back up.
His red trench coat flared open like demonic wings.
THUD!
Gravel exploded outward.
Soren landed clean on the highway across the gap, knees flexing just enough to soak up the impact. His enhanced body handled it like nothing.
For Rose, still slung over his shoulder, it was a whole different nightmare.
The brutal whiplash nearly rattled her guts loose.
"See? Told you we'd make it."
Soren set her down gently.
"Ughhh—"
Rose dropped to her hands and knees, dry-heaving hard, whole body shaking. She stared up at him like he was some monster wearing human skin.
"You… what the hell are you? You can fly?!"
"Lady, trust science," Soren said, smoothing his wind-messed hair and straightening his coat. "As a private investigator, you gotta pick up some special parkour tricks for the tough jobs."
"Makes sense, right?"
Rose opened her mouth, then closed it again. She had nothing.
Special… parkour tricks?
Was that even supposed to make sense?
…
At the edge of the thick fog, a grand church finally loomed into view.
This was Silent Hill's last sanctuary—the one place every remaining survivor had gathered.
Graveyards sprawled around the outside. Crooked tombstones and crosses leaned at strange angles like restless ghosts who refused to stay buried.
Soren and Rose stood at the bottom of the stone steps, staring up at the towering Gothic building.
An upside-down cross hung at the peak. Four massive loudspeakers pointed toward every corner of town.
The front doors were sealed shut. Faint chanting prayers drifted out from inside.
"She drew a picture exactly like this! Sharon has to be inside!"
Rose's face lit up with desperate hope. She scrambled up the steps and pounded on the heavy doors.
"Open up! Please let us in!"
"My daughter's missing—she might be in there! I'm begging you, open the door!"
The praying inside didn't stop. It only got louder, drowning her out.
To these xenophobic cultists, any noise from outside was just the devil trying to trick them.
"Why won't they open?!"
Rose slid down to her knees in front of the doors, helpless.
Soren stood a few steps below, stroking his chin. A new plan clicked into place.
By bringing Rose straight here, he'd completely skipped most of the movie's long puzzle sections.
According to the original timeline, Sharon probably hadn't been captured by the cult yet. She was still wandering lost somewhere in the fog.
He checked the system quest again.
[Side Quest: Mother's Love]
[Objective: Help Rose find her daughter Sharon and keep Rose alive]
[Reward: 500 points]
Searching the entire town with just the two of them would be like hunting for a needle in a haystack.
"Why waste time?" he thought. "Just take over the church and make these cultists do the searching for me."
Soren's eyes narrowed on the building.
What decent people could possibly be among the fanatics Alessa had dragged in here? Their deaths wouldn't exactly keep him up at night.
Still…
He remembered how insanely brainwashed they were in the movie.
If he went in guns blazing, these lunatics might just see him as a demon and charge screaming to their deaths.
He didn't mind killing, but if they all died, who the hell would help look for Sharon?
One face appeared in his mind: the old woman in blue-purple robes.
Christabella.
She was the bishop of this church and the spiritual leader of every survivor here. She was also the mastermind behind Alessa's tragedy all those years ago.
To these zealots, Christabella's word was God's command.
Most important of all, Christabella herself was no martyr.
She was a power-hungry schemer who had turned the church into her own little dictatorship. She spread fear to crush rivals and twisted the rules to satisfy her own desires.
People like her—who loved power the most—feared death the most. And they knew exactly when to submit.
Put a knife to her throat and she'd cooperate better than anyone.
Besides… this whole setup felt very familiar.
Holding the bishop hostage to control the flock?
Plan locked in, Soren walked up the steps, grabbed Rose like a sack of potatoes, and casually moved her aside.
"Let me handle this, ma'am."
"No point being polite with these people."
He planted himself right in front of the massive doors, face cold and expressionless. He raised his right leg, power surging through it.
BOOM!!!
The deafening crash exploded through the entire church.
The heavy doors—which had stood for decades as their final line of defense—were blasted inward along with their frame.
Wooden splinters flew everywhere. The thick doors slammed to the floor inside, kicking up a massive cloud of dust.
Hundreds of candles were snuffed out by the shockwave. Only a few lonely flames still flickered in the haze.
The cultists who had been praying with their eyes closed screamed in terror, convinced monsters had finally broken through.
When the dust settled, a man in a dark-red trench coat strolled in casually. Backlit by the doorway, his silhouette radiated pure menace.
"Blasphemy!!!"
From the altar, an old woman in flowing blue-purple robes shot to her feet. Her face twisted with shock and raw rage.
Her sharp, cruel features and heavy makeup couldn't hide the deep arrogance carved into her bones.
It was Christabella.
"Pardon the interruption, Bishop Christabella," Soren said, his lazy voice echoing through the vast hall. "I have a small request I'd like to discuss with you."
His completely disrespectful tone instantly enraged the woman who was used to everyone bowing before her.
Here, people treated her like a living saint. Even outsiders eventually ended up on their knees begging for her protection.
But the second her sharp eyes met Soren's gaze, an ice-cold chill shot straight up her spine.
After ruling this cursed land for decades, Christabella didn't survive on brutality alone—she had an almost supernatural instinct for darkness.
She believed she possessed God's own eyes—the ability to sniff out sin and heresy in any soul and send them to the stake.
But what stood before her now wasn't human.
It was clearly a devil wearing human skin.
The demonic aura rolling off him was purer and far more ancient than any monster she had encountered in thirty years in Silent Hill.
"You… you are…"