Chapter 86: Louisiana
Gideon had already done his research. To make real progress, one needed at least five-year consecrated holy water.
The older the water, the greater the mastery gained.
So instead of wasting time, he went straight for the twenty-year holy water.
It was, without doubt, a luxurious extravagance.
Brewing a single vial of twenty-year holy water consumed vast reserves of divine power.
But since this was for his own use, Gideon had no intention of being stingy.
If the Exorcism Academy ever found out about his approach, they would surely curse him as arrogant and wasteful.
After all, "holy water purification" was the most basic discipline for all students. It was also one of the most crucial skills in future exorcisms.
Yet, because high-aged holy water was so difficult to produce, most students could only afford one- or two-year batches.
The discipline itself demanded long-term dedication, forcing students to buy holy water every year—an endless drain of wealth.
Some students even joked bitterly:
"We're not cleansing our eyes… we're rinsing them with banknotes soaked in perfume."
---
Aside from that extravagance, the rest of Gideon's records only showed steady progress:
Holy Water Blessing: Tier 1 (406/1000)
Scripture Reading: Tier 1 (62/1000)
Ignatian Spiritual Exercises: Tier 0 (79/100)
---
That morning, Gideon and Sadie landed at Louisiana Airport.
The moment they stepped outside, the hot, humid air hit them like a wall.
Gideon immediately felt as though he'd been shoved into a steamer.
Other travelers were already rifling through their suitcases, pulling out lighter clothes.
Sadie, however, spread her arms wide, tilted her head back, and inhaled deeply.
"Compared to the dry wastelands out west, I'll take this damp air any day," she said with a blissful smile.
Gideon couldn't fathom her enthusiasm. Just standing outside a few moments, he already felt sticky and uncomfortable.
As a local, Sadie quickly bargained with a driver. They wasted no time and continued their journey by taxi.
The deeper they went, the more the local character revealed itself.
Louisiana's subtropical climate meant endless swamps and dense forests. Heavy rainfall forced houses to be built with steep roofs, ensuring water could drain quickly.
But rain wasn't the only hazard.
Alligators and snakes were only the beginning.
After the Plague Zone emerged, creatures like tentacled swamp fiends, bloodsucking leeches, and worse abominations once prowled freely.
Even though most of them were now confined within sealed boundaries, locals still built their homes raised high on wooden stilts hammered into rivers and marshes—an old tradition born of necessity.
---
Two hours later, Gideon and Sadie arrived at their destination: St. Fréyan, a remote town on the banks of the Mississippi River.
Decades ago, this had been the heart of the Plague Zone.
Now, the town lagged far behind the modern world.
Phones were useless here. Communication relied on letters and telegraphs. The most advanced thing on the streets was the streetlamps.
Sadie led Gideon to the gates of a small estate.
"My family's been in the ammunition modification business for generations," she said with a smile, pointing at the property.
Gideon raised his brows. In his mind, he instantly pinned a few labels on the female demon-hunter:
Wealthy and dangerous.
Living off blood-soaked profits.
Probably had a rebellious youth.
At the estate entrance, smelting tools and makeshift shooting ranges were scattered about.
"Bazel, is Father home?" Sadie asked, stopping a butler-like old man.
"Ah! Miss Sadie, you've returned!" Bazel bowed deeply.
"The master and Miss Ophelia are in the council hall, discussing the next expedition into the Plague Zone."
At the mention of Ophelia, Sadie frowned slightly.
"Very well. This is my friend, Father Gideon. Please arrange a comfortable room for him."
"Of course, Miss. It is my duty." Bazel bowed again.
Gideon gave a polite nod in return.
After parting with the butler, the two approached a large wooden door.
From inside came raised voices.
"Ophelia, I think we should wait until Sadie returns. The Cooper family won't act so carelessly."
"Why do you always make me wait for her? Besides, I already have a finished product—I must test it!"
Sadie forced an awkward smile toward Gideon, then knocked softly.
Knock, knock.
The voices inside fell silent. A few seconds later, the door swung open.
"Ah, Sadie, my daughter—you're home."
The man in the doorway was middle-aged, with a thick mustache: Skoll Allard, Sadie's father.
Through the gap, Gideon glimpsed another woman inside.
She resembled Sadie in many ways, with the same Latin charm.
Her long, toned legs and sun-kissed complexion made her strikingly attractive.
"And this gentleman is…?" Skoll stepped in to block Gideon's view.
"Father, this is Father Gideon. I invited him to assist us in the upcoming ritual," Sadie explained smoothly.
"Greetings, young man," Skoll said, raising a brow but extending his hand warmly, inviting them inside.
"And tell me, Father—what parish do you hail from?"
Ophelia stepped closer, her faint perfume reaching Gideon's nose.
"Philadelphia, West District Community Church," Gideon replied with a polite smile.
She had deliberately mentioned "parish-level" from the start—clearly a subtle test.
Gideon, recalling the argument he overheard outside, quickly pieced it together—this woman was trying to use him as a weapon to humiliate Sadie.
Sure enough, Ophelia's lips curved into a mock expression of surprise.
"Oh? I thought you had actually convinced the Church. Turns out you were just out on a date."
Her tone was light, almost playful.
"Tell me, when the ritual begins, are you planning to use some… other kind of liquid?" she added with a sly glance, before turning her head away.
But her eyes met the priest's.
For the briefest instant, Ophelia froze. Gideon's gaze was cold, merciless—as if the next moment he might tear her apart without hesitation.
Her throat bobbed, and the rest of her mockery died in her mouth.
At that moment, Skoll's voice cut through sharply:
"Enough! She is your sister."
Ophelia brushed her hair back, feigning nonchalance as she changed the subject.
"So then, my dear sister—did you manage to obtain the sacred oil?"
She stepped closer to Sadie.
Sadie frowned. "No… but—"
"You hear that?" Ophelia interjected, eyes flashing with triumph.
"The so-called most promising young demon-huntress of our generation… and she can't even secure a vial of sacred oil."
She placed a hand proudly on her chest.
"Meanwhile, I have already claimed the corpse of a Cooper hound and forged specialized ammunition to deal with those beasts."
"Ophelia, this matter requires further discussion," Skoll said, moving to restrain his younger daughter.
But Ophelia jerked free.
"No need! Today I'll complete the final experiment. Then you'll see who was right all along!"
With that, she stormed out, slamming the door behind her.
"…Father, what is going on?" Sadie asked, muttering an apology to Gideon before fixing her father with a frown.
Skoll sighed helplessly.
"Just a few days ago, Ophelia turned one of the Cooper clan's own kin. With his help, she stole the corpse of one of their hounds."
From his explanation, Gideon learned more about the local balance of power.
St. Fréyan was a stronghold of demon hunters, dominated by four great families.
The Allard family, Sadie's bloodline, was one of them.
Another was the Cooper family—longtime rivals.
The Coopers were famed for their breeding of demon-hunting hounds. In the South, their dogs were legendary: massive in stature, fiercely loyal, and possessed of incredible endurance.
Even in the face of hunger, poison, or crippling wounds, they would still obey their master's command.
In a land ravaged by monsters, such hounds were the perfect weapon—shields of flesh and fang that could take countless dangers in their master's stead.
Small wonder Cooper hounds were always in demand, yet never enough to meet it.