Chapter 141 — The Summoning Altar
"What… is that?"
Valakh took a cautious step forward, curiosity flickering in his golden eyes—
but when he saw Gideon give the faintest shake of his head,
he stopped immediately, understanding without a word.
"Hey! You humans—out.
Only the one making the deal stays."
Before anyone could respond, the demon simply waved its hand.
A pulse of force rippled through the room—
and in an instant, everyone but Gideon was thrown backward.
They didn't hit the ground, though.
An invisible barrier caught them gently at the doorway, holding them suspended.
Valakh narrowed his eyes.
"You're just a mortal… yet you can borrow demonic authority?"
"How irritating."
Gideon ignored the comment and brought the conversation back on track.
"Let's talk about cooperation."
Valakh, however, eyed the bottle in his hand with suspicion.
"Is that really twenty-year holy water?"
"At that age," the demon muttered, "it's practically a relic.
How do I know you're not bluffing?"
Gideon didn't argue. He simply flicked his wrist,
spraying a stream of radiant droplets into the air.
"You maniac!"
Valakh dove beneath it, mouth wide open—
catching the shimmering droplets like a man dying of thirst.
"Ahh…"
His eyelids fluttered as he sighed in euphoric relief.
"That divine sting… that pure burn…"
A few seconds later, he exhaled softly, utterly content.
"Alright, priest. Let's talk business."
Had any member of the Church witnessed this moment,
they would've been paralyzed on the spot.
Forget heresy—
even in the depths of Hell, no demon had ever willingly offered to negotiate with a priest.
Fifteen minutes later.
Gideon stepped out onto the porch, his cassock brushing against the doorframe.
In his right hand, he held the boy—Ben—by the wrist.
"My child!"
Denise Solomon ran forward, tears streaming down her face as she wrapped Ben in her arms.
"Is he… all right?" Silas asked hesitantly.
Gideon nodded.
"The demon's been sealed."
He reached into his coat and produced a wooden jar,
its surface covered in talisman papers marked with holy sigils.
"Wretched human! Liar!"
The jar trembled violently, a muffled roar echoing from within.
The others exchanged stunned looks—half disbelief, half awe.
Even without knowing what happened inside that house,
they could guess:
Father Gideon had somehow outwitted a demon.
"He… even tricked it?" Silas whispered, amazed.
Bente tapped the jar cautiously.
"So… does that mean the job's done?"
Gideon shook his head.
"Not yet. Don't forget—the sacrifice ritual."
He pointed toward the sunflower field.
Everyone turned.
Without Valakh's suppressive presence,
the withered sunflowers were coming back to life,
their golden heads rising toward the light once more.
But Roy Solomon's expression didn't brighten.
He knew exactly what that meant.
"The ritual's starting…"
Bente frowned.
"The Church has sent an exorcist from the Special Department—
but he won't arrive until noon."
He looked at Gideon anxiously.
"Maybe we should pull back and wait?"
"Good idea," Gideon said calmly. "Take Judy and get to safety.
I still have something to discuss—with him."
He turned and walked toward the dirt path by the field.
Carlby was waiting there, shoulders slumped in resignation.
Gideon hadn't let him enter the house earlier,
and now the old salesman looked utterly hollowed out.
"It's time," Gideon said quietly. "Summon your demon."
Carlby hesitated, his face pale.
"I… I'm not sure this is wise, Father."
"You're free to walk away," Gideon replied evenly.
"If you're content to waste your only chance at redemption."
The old man lowered his head,
thinking in silence for a long moment—
then stood, trembling slightly.
"I understand."
Before long, a small altar took shape at the edge of the sunflower field.
Upon it lay offerings and symbols of damnation:
a crow effigy, a bowl of black goat's blood, and candles carved with infernal runes.
Carlby knelt in the center, clutching a dagger.
Gideon stood beside him, voice calm but firm.
"Remember what I told you—
a demon cannot defeat a man whose heart is filled with courage."
It wasn't a mere comfort.
In this world—one crawling with supernatural horrors—
courage itself was a tangible, protective force.
Carlby took a deep breath and nodded hard.
He sliced open his palm.
Drops of crimson fell upon the crow idol.
The black stone soaked the blood greedily.
"The gates of the Abyss open," Carlby whispered, voice trembling.
"And the seventy-two pillars of damnation rise—
the emblems of mankind's fall…"
The air turned heavy.
The candles flickered, bending inward.
The blood in the bowl began to boil.
And far above,
the morning sun—so bright only minutes ago—
dimmed beneath a sudden, unnatural shadow.
As Carlby's trembling voice rose into the air,
the sunflower fields began to churn with violent wind.
Dust and blades of grass lifted from the earth,
whirling upward until they spiraled into a vortex above the altar.
Moments later, a suffocating pressure surged outward—
so heavy, it stained the air black.
Carlby shook uncontrollably, sweat beading on his forehead.
"Speak… mortal. What is your wish?"
The voice was low and vast, echoing as though it came from beyond the world itself.
"My… my lord," Carlby stammered,
"I… wish to make another deal."
The world fell silent.
Then, grains of sand began to gather around him,
coalescing into the shape of a crow, its eyes gleaming like coals.
"Heh… heh-heh…"
A guttural, rasping laugh echoed from the swirling dust.
"You? Your daughter? Every soul in this wretched town…
All of you already belong to me.
What could you possibly offer in exchange?"
The demon's voice crashed down on Carlby like a mountain of despair.
His knees buckled, his breath coming in ragged gasps.
He could barely stay upright.
And yet—amid that terror—
he heard Father Gideon's words echoing in his mind.
"A demon cannot overcome a man whose heart still holds courage."
Carlby's eyes snapped open.
"Valakh!" he shouted hoarsely.
"I've captured him!"
The crow-shaped mass of sand froze midair.
"Impossible. You're lying."
"I… I joined forces with a priest of the Church," Carlby said through gritted teeth.
"Together, we ambushed him!"
A second voice spoke from the shadows.
"He's telling the truth."
The crow's head twisted sharply.
"The stench of sanctity… a priest! You dare—filthy slave of Heaven!"
"Hey, hey. Let's not get dramatic."
Gideon stepped calmly into view, pulling Carlby behind a faint, glowing boundary line.
"Let's discuss terms. First, take a look at the goods."
He lifted his hand—
and with a subtle motion, loosened the seal on the wooden jar.
The air trembled as an all-too-familiar demonic aura seeped out.
Marbas' burning red eyes narrowed.
"It really is him…"
He could also feel that the ritual field—his grand sacrificial matrix—had restarted.
That was proof enough.
"How did you capture it?"
"Doesn't matter," Gideon replied smoothly.
"Valakh happened to get tangled in my mission. That's all."
He gestured toward Carlby.
"This man recently pledged his soul to the Church…
yet his spirit still lies bound in your hands."
The sand-crow studied Gideon in silence.
Its voice came out cold and almost amused.
"Every priest who's ever bargained with a demon
has eventually betrayed your precious Church.
You humans… are endlessly fascinating."
Gideon shrugged.
"Save the philosophy. Let's get to business."
"And why," the demon hissed, "should I agree to anything you propose?"
"You don't have to," Gideon said mildly.
"But if you don't—"
He tilted his wrist as if to hurl the jar toward the farmhouse.
"—then I'll just release what's inside."
The threat landed like a blade's edge.
Marbas went silent.
Then, after a long pause—
"Fine," it said at last.
"You have the right to bargain."
From within the swirling void,
a sheet of darkened parchment floated out—
old, yellowed, and scrawled in blood-red ink.
"Surrender Valakh to me," the demon intoned,
"and this man shall regain his soul."
"Not just him," Gideon countered evenly.
"His daughter, and every soul in town that you've claimed."
Marbas' wings flared, wind slicing through the field.
"You dare dictate terms to a demon?"
Its roar shook the soil, but Gideon didn't flinch.
He simply cocked his arm again, preparing to throw the jar.
"…Fine. I accept."
The demon's tone dropped back to eerie calm,
as if its fury had never existed.
Gideon glanced at Carlby, wordlessly signaling: Now.
"Human," Marbas rumbled darkly,
"someday you'll pay for your insolence."
But Gideon knew—
that was bluster, nothing more.
He'd already noticed the flaw in the contract.
Marbas had demanded: "Deliver Valakh to me."
That phrase could mean the demon's essence—or merely its power.
The thing inside the jar was only the latter.
Gideon didn't bother correcting him.
As the demon's form began to fade,
the parchment fluttered through the air, landing at Carlby's feet.
The old man bent down, trembling,
eyes darting across the blood-stained text.
"Is it… the same one you signed before?" Gideon asked quietly.
"Y-yes… yes, it is!" Carlby's voice cracked with disbelief.
That was all Gideon needed.
He pulled a vial from his pocket—
its seal glimmering faintly gold.
Without hesitation, he uncorked it
and splashed the twenty-year holy water across the parchment.
"You fool!"
Marbas' voice roared through the wind.
"Human! You dare—!"
The field erupted in a blinding flash of light.
The parchment hissed,
its blood-ink melting away like burning oil.
The deal that had damned an entire town
was finally unraveling.
And for the first time in decades—
the souls of this town began to stir awake.