Luke hurried to the location. He had tried his best to get in touch with Eileen, but her phone went straight to voicemail.
This never happened—the phone he got her was specifically for them to communicate.
It wasn't used for anything else, and Luke knew that if things escalated now, there would be no turning back.
The threat was never that Caleb was a Nephilim—it was the essence, or rather, the innate traits of all demons.
Luke wasn't naive. He understood where the Church was coming from because, to them, all evil was meant to be extinguished from the face of the earth.
Bryan sat quietly, realising he knew nothing about the man in the car with him—and that frightened him.
Luke tore through the streets like he had nine lives, but there was no need to be this worried... unless Caleb wasn't strong enough to handle himself.
If Luke hadn't made that promise to his wife, there was a high chance he would have already driven a blade through his son's chest.
His wife knew this—that's why she made him promise. She was the only one Luke placed above the Church.
Luke never thought a day like this would come so soon, but there was nothing he could do now except accept the reality in front of him.
If Caleb's innate demon traits surfaced, Luke wasn't sure his son's human side wouldn't be corrupted.
"W-Who are you?" Bryan finally mustered the courage to ask.
"I'm a servant of the Lord," Luke said simply, knowing he had to get to his son as quickly as possible.
-
Eileen closed her eyes, resigned to her fate—but something strange happened. The decisive blow never came.
"Huh?" she muttered, gradually opening her eyes to see a hand run clean through the chest of the priest who had been about to kill her.
Her eyes widened in horror. This shouldn't be happening.
The priest didn't have a look of despair on his face—rather, one of satisfaction.
He was lifted off the ground and tossed aside like a ragdoll, skidding several meters along the pavement, his skin tearing from the impact.
But not before Caleb ripped off his head with his other hand.
Eileen wanted to speak, but the moment she saw Caleb, she froze.
Whoever she was looking at—it wasn't him.
"...Caleb?" she called, hopeful, because she too understood the consequence of the seal breaking.
But the moment she spoke, his eyes came back to life. Caleb began to panic when he saw blood on his hands.
"What the hell is this!?" Caleb exclaimed, looking around to see the severed head of the priest lying at his feet.
He couldn't believe what he'd done. It hadn't been a decision made in cold blood—his entire body had screamed to protect her.
He had underestimated his strength. He didn't know he was capable of this level of destruction.
If he had, he would have chosen a different approach. But all he had in his heart was the will to protect her—and that's what he did.
He didn't think. He didn't hold back.
And this was the result of a man who didn't know his strength.
However, he had taken the life of a priest.
There would be consequences.
[System Update!]
[Soul Integrity: -6]
[Soul Integrity: 94]
Caleb stared at the prompt hovering before him, trying to make sense of it.
It appeared out of nowhere, visible only to him.
He took a deep breath, trying to calm his mind, but the blood on his hands reminded him—he had killed a man.
"That man was a murderer… he killed Hilda and was going to kill me and Eileen. I did the right thing..." Caleb muttered to himself.
But then he looked again at the severed head—and he couldn't help but throw up.
Eileen stood astonished. The wound she had suffered had healed miraculously.
She knew it had something to do with Caleb's increased strength.
This wasn't just any priest—this was someone powerful enough to kill Hilda.
And now, that same man had been torn apart.
It showed just how much potential Caleb truly had.
-
"The sins of the father will be inherited by the son," a cloaked man muttered, seated on a throne-like chair.
An eerie smile crept across his hidden face.
He knocked over a black chess piece—a pawn that represented the fallen priest.
"But sacrifices must be made to get to the father," the mysterious man whispered, as a single white piece remained standing on the board.
It wasn't a pawn.
It was a king.