Chapter 125 – The Reward for the Commission
"The Lord of Hell… the House of Slaughter… and a forbidden name…"
Gideon repeated the words under his breath, his brow furrowing.
That phrase — House of Slaughter — felt strangely familiar, but he couldn't recall where he'd heard it before.
He suspected that the power behind the Ram Demon had already achieved partial descent into the mortal realm.
But for some reason, it hadn't yet dared to show itself.
Perhaps that entity — the so-called Lord of Hell — wasn't strong enough yet.
Perhaps it still needed to grow before revealing itself to the world, hiding carefully from the Church's sight.
And considering how much effort the cult had gone through just to conceal that "name," it spoke volumes about its significance.
"A being of high rank… but not yet fully awakened," he murmured.
Gideon's eyes narrowed, a faint, knowing smile tugging at his lips.
"Looks like I might've stumbled onto a very big fish."
Still, he had no intention of going after it.
That kind of prey was far too dangerous — an ancient power that had clearly planned its moves long before anyone noticed.
Going after it now would be like walking into its jaws willingly.
Especially after he'd just destroyed one of its lieutenants.
"Heh. I'll let the higher-ups have that 'honor,'" he muttered, rubbing his chin.
He'd report everything to the Church — it was his duty after all.
The Holy Word had already forewarned: "When the shadow of evil falls upon the earth, the trumpet shall sound, and the faithful shall rise."
If that prophecy was beginning to unfold, the Church needed to know.
But before making the report, Gideon decided to speak privately with Lorraine and the others —
to minimize his own presence in the account.
The fewer questions people asked about him, the better.
As he turned, he caught the exorcist's worried eyes watching him.
He gave a reassuring nod and immediately knelt beside the unconscious group — Ed, Judy, and Mia — checking their pulses.
"They're fine," he said after a moment, flipping open his exorcism tome.
"No mortal danger."
It was fortunate they had drunk his holy water earlier, and carried multiple blessed charms.
The demonic surge had only stunned them — no real harm done.
Lorraine's shoulders sagged in relief.
"Father Gideon… can you wake them?" she asked.
"Of course."
His voice was calm and steady.
At his murmured words, a soft light rippled through the room, washing away the last traces of lingering corruption.
Moments later, the three stirred awake.
Ed groaned, rubbing his forehead. "What happened to me…?"
Lorraine quickly recounted everything. When she finished, Ed pushed himself upright and bowed deeply.
"Father, thank you. We owe you our lives."
Gideon waved a hand lightly. "The situation was… unusual. You should report it to the Church immediately."
Lorraine blinked. "Wait — you're giving us the credit?"
"Without you, we couldn't have handled that demon!" Ed protested.
But Gideon only smiled faintly.
"Sometimes it's better that way," he said. "Not all victories are meant to be recorded."
The Warrens exchanged a glance.
Finally, they nodded — though they still insisted on paying Gideon double the commission for his help.
This time, he accepted.
Mia, still holding her child close, had no objections.
After carefully packing up the relics, Gideon and the Warrens bid farewell and left the apartment.
Saint Dey Cathedral
The vast marble corridor echoed softly with footsteps.
The Warrens, dressed neatly, followed a young priest through the hall.
Before long, they arrived at a heavy oak door bearing a brass plaque engraved with words:
"Bishop's Office."
Knock, knock.
"Come in," called a deep, steady voice from inside.
The priest gently pushed the door open.
"Archbishop Hermann, Mr. and Mrs. Warren are here," he said respectfully, bowing.
The couple followed suit, bowing as well.
"Ah, you've come! Please, come in!"
Behind a wooden desk sat Hans Hermann, the Archbishop of Dey Cathedral.
An elderly man with snow-white hair and round spectacles, his presence was gentle rather than imposing.
When he smiled, it was with genuine warmth — the kind of face that could calm even a frightened child.
He stood, tracing a cross over his chest before returning their greeting.
"Archbishop Hermann, I'm sorry to disturb you," Lorraine said politely.
"Oh, nonsense," he chuckled, waving his hand. "Please, just call me Hans."
He gestured toward the chairs before his desk.
"So, tell me — you actually completed the exorcism? No injuries, I hope?"
The Warrens sat, and Lorraine began recounting the entire incident — from the haunting in Mia's apartment to the final confrontation with the Ram Demon.
Of course, she had edited the story — carefully omitting any details about Gideon's extraordinary abilities.
When she finished, she clasped her hands and said gravely, "Your Excellency, please report this to the Church. It's not something we can handle alone."
Archbishop Hermann froze.
His expression turned solemn.
"This… truly happened?" he muttered, standing slowly.
He began to pace across the office, deep in thought.
"So it's come at last," he murmured under his breath.
"The calamity foretold in the Holy Word…"
Archbishop Hans Hermann bowed deeply to the Warrens.
"On behalf of the Church," he said earnestly, "I thank you both. What you've brought back will save countless lives."
Lorraine quickly stood and shook her head modestly.
"We only did what was right," she said softly.
Then, after a brief hesitation, she added,
"About the commission's reward…"
She didn't mention the information bonus.
That report — the one about the "Lord of Hell" — would clearly be worth far more to the Church than any material payment.
But that information had come from Father Gideon. The Warrens had no intention of profiting from it.
All they wanted was the original payment — a bottle of five-year holy water.
Hans nodded.
"Of course," he said… but then paused.
His expression shifted — from warm to uneasy.
Lorraine's heart sank.
"Your Excellency… did something happen?"
Hans exhaled a long, weary sigh and sank back into his chair.
"I'm truly sorry," he said at last. "That bottle has been requisitioned by the upper diocese. I know how long you've worked for it, and this failure to uphold our agreement is… my fault entirely."
He reached into a drawer and pulled out a small wooden box.
"I managed to secure this instead — a bottle of two-year holy water from Dey Cathedral. It's not an equal exchange, but… please, accept it as a token of apology."
He stepped forward, holding out the box with both hands, his expression filled with genuine remorse.
Lorraine's face paled.
She hadn't expected this outcome.
That bottle of five-year holy water was the entire reason she and Ed had taken the commission in the first place.
They'd risked their lives for it — sifting through forbidden archives, tracking demonic activity across three states, even confronting the Ram Demon itself.
If not for Father Gideon's intervention, both of them might've died in the process.
And now… all that effort meant nothing.
A two-year holy water might be valuable to an ordinary believer,
but for their daughter Judy — whose spiritual resilience had long surpassed normal thresholds —
it was practically useless.
Still, Lorraine didn't dare to protest.
After all, she and Ed weren't official members of the Church.
They were only proxy exorcists, operating under temporary authorization.
To offend a high-ranking archbishop could easily mean losing that privilege — or worse.
"It's all right, Archbishop Hermann," Lorraine said with a strained smile.
"This isn't your fault."
She gently pushed the wooden box back toward him.
"This belongs to you. We can't accept it."
Hans's shoulders slumped.
"Lord forgive me," he murmured, bowing his head. "That makes my failure feel even greater."
After a moment of silence, his gaze hardened slightly — as if he had reached a decision.
"There is another way," he said slowly.
"Dey Cathedral keeps one bottle of six-year holy water — sealed since the days of my predecessor, Archbishop Lancaster Merlin."
He walked back to his desk, pulling out an old file.
"Before he passed, Archbishop Merlin issued a commission tied to that relic — but no one has ever been able to complete it."
Hans's voice deepened.
"The mission concerns an accursed idol, unearthed from an archaeological site in the Middle East. It's said to house the spirit of an ancient demon."
Lorraine's eyes lit up.
"We'll take it," she said firmly, without hesitation.
Ed nodded in agreement, his expression resolute.
Hans studied them for a long moment… then smiled softly.
"You two are the bravest souls I've ever met," he said, tracing the sign of the cross over his chest.
"May the Lord bless and guide you."
He handed Lorraine the official commission papers and personally escorted them to the door.
The moment the door closed behind them —
Bang.
The Archbishop's kind smile vanished.
His face turned cold, expressionless.
He walked back to his desk with measured steps, the light from the stained-glass window falling sharply across his features.
Several folders lay open before him.
The top one bore a label stamped in red ink:
"Philadelphia Home for Disabled Children."
Hans picked up the telephone receiver, dialed a number, and waited.
A voice answered after one ring.
"They've accepted the commission," Hans said flatly.
Then he hung up without another word.
Silence filled the room.
A moment later, he opened his wardrobe and changed into a plain black overcoat.
When he stepped back into the corridor, his warm smile had returned — perfectly rehearsed.
"Archbishop Hermann," the young priest from earlier called out, still standing dutifully by the door. "Do you require an escort?"
"Oh, you're still here?" Hans said kindly, patting the young man's shoulder. "You work too hard."
"It's an honor to serve you, Your Excellency," the priest replied with a bow.
"Good, good."
Hans smiled — that same gentle, harmless smile everyone knew so well.
"I'm just heading out for a short visit," he said lightly.
"To the orphanage."