Even with all the adrenaline, Ansel started to feel a deep, nagging sense of giving up. He kept hoping and praying that someone, someone would come to help him.
But when he looked around, his hope started to vanish. Everyone nearby was just frozen, pale, with wide, terrified eyes. Nobody moved to help. Instead, they just hid behind closed doors. They peeked out carefully but never actually coming forward.
It made sense, though. The woman wasn't herself anymore. Whatever evil spirit had taken over her was something way beyond human understanding.
Even the police, who are supposed to keep things in order and protect people, just stood silently far away. Their weapons were down; they weren't willing to face the terrifying thing in front of them.
It bothered him deeply. He tried to figure it out.
Why was he the only one being chased? Why was everything so quiet? Where was the usual city noise, the cars and people? All he could hear was her voice. So, it confused him because he knew the truth: she was only focused on him.
Even with all the thoughts nagging at him, Ansel understood. Anyone who tried to get near the possessed woman risked dying. This wasn't just any regular possession. The spirit hadn't just gotten into her body. It had taken over her heart and mind completely, turning her into a vessel for pure evil. Using her human body, the spirit could move around freely in the world. It could touch, hit, or destroy things with incredible ease.
The power the spirit had through the woman was huge. She moved with unnatural speed, almost a blur. Her strength was far beyond what any human could have. Ansel's attempts to get away from her just kept failing. Every time he thought he had a brief break, she was right there again, faster and more determined than ever.
Overwhelmed and trapped, Ansel's thoughts spun. Getting away wasn't an option anymore. Then, suddenly, with a desperate burst of clarity, Ansel made up his mind. He would try an exorcism.
He stopped running. He stood on the ground firmly, ready to face the darkness directly.
The woman lunged, and the blade she held went deep into Ansel's stomach. The pain should have been terrible. But strangely, it felt dull, as if the spirit's powerful presence was muffling it. Blood welled up from the wound, staining his clothes and dripping onto the ground. Even though he felt weak and helpless, his will to fight hadn't broken.
He reached out, trying to grab the woman's hand to stop her from pushing the blade deeper. But the spirit's grip was too powerful. His body was shaking from exhaustion. His mind struggled to understand what kind of thing had taken over this woman. This wasn't just some regular evil spirit. It was much more sinister. Something that craved not just destruction, but human souls.
The spirit wasn't just hungry for flesh and blood. It wanted the very essence of life, the soul itself. Questions swirled in Ansel's mind, dark and worrying. What had happened in the Immortal realm to let loose such a force? Why did it feel like a huge slaughter was coming?
As he was lost in these thoughts, the woman's other hand tightened around his neck. Ansel gasped, fighting for air as he felt himself being lifted off the ground. The blade was still stuck in his side. His vision blurred, and panic rushed through him.
His only chance to live was to fight back. He knew he had to keep the possessed woman away from innocent people nearby. If she lost control, others would get hurt.
Gathering all the strength he had left, he raised his bloody hand and pressed it against her forehead. To his surprise, the woman didn't resist. For a brief moment, the spirit's hold seemed to waver, and Ansel felt a tiny bit of hope.
He carefully traced the sign of the cross on her forehead. He forced himself to do so although his hand was shaking.
The vibe around them felt heavier, filled with an unseen tension. As his fingers pressed hard against her head, a sudden wave of heat came from her skin. It burned like a fever under his touch. Ansel's breath caught, but he made himself hold still, not wanting to break the delicate connection.
Ansel had never done an exorcism before, not even once. The whole idea had always felt far off, something only priests and experienced ritualists would do.
He had memorized the exorcism spell, a bunch of old Latin words he barely understood. But it had gone over countless times in his head. Now, with his neck getting tighter as if giant hands were slowly choking him, he pulled together every bit of courage he had left.
His voice was just a whisper, strained and rough, as he started to chant.
The Latin words came out unevenly, as he kept going, knowing each word was like a fragile lifeline thrown into the darkness.
Exorcizamus te
omnis immunde spiritus
omnis satanica potestas
omnis incursio
infernalis adversarii
omnis legio
omnis congregatio et secta diabolica
in nomini et virtute domini nostri Jesu Christi
The spell did manage to weaken the evil spirit that possessed the woman. But it was far from a complete win.
The dark force twisted inside her, its grip getting looser but not entirely broken. Ansel knew very well that just weakening the spirit was only the first part. Nevertheless, destroying it completely was a whole different challenge.
Suddenly, the woman's hand that had been choking him lashed out. This was his chance, his finest moment to get free from the suffocating grip.
He gathered every bit of strength left in his beaten body. He ripped himself free and fell onto the cold ground. The air rushed into his lungs felt like a fresh start. He took a short break from the choking darkness that had almost taken him.
But his relief didn't last long. The evil spirit inside the woman became furious. It groaned. It was ready again with such fury that it sent shivers down his spine.
This time, Ansel refused to just be a helpless victim. He wouldn't stand still or hide in fear. He would fight.
He pulled a small stick from his pocket and held it out. He smeared his blood all over the stick.
With a fierce shout, Ansel shoved the bloody stick into the woman's belly with all his strength. He didn't care about saving her anymore. All that mattered was surviving himself. If the woman couldn't take the pain, then that was on her.