Chapter 135 — The Demon's Pact
Blood dripped steadily from Carlby's wrist—
thick, dark red drops splattering onto the soil.
Gritting his teeth through the pain, he pressed his bleeding wrist against the glowing crimson barrier.
A moment later, the blood began to spread outward from the point of contact,
rippling across the invisible surface like ink seeping through water.
The scarlet hue deepened with every heartbeat,
veins of red crawling outward, forming intricate, living patterns.
Silas's brows furrowed.
"That's… Blood Contamination."
Bente and Zal looked confused.
"You mean he's performing a dark ritual?"
Silas nodded grimly, explaining in a low voice.
Gideon's eyes narrowed.
He remembered reading about this in old church archives —
a forbidden rite born from the will of demons themselves.
Blood Contamination —
a ritual used to extend the influence of demonic power across a physical space.
Unlike ordained exorcists, most human cultists lacked spiritual strength.
But when they forged pacts with demons, they were given… certain "privileges."
Terrifying rituals that could cause destruction on a catastrophic scale —
so long as they offered their own lives in return.
And right now, Carlby Price was offering all of himself.
Through the Eyes of Sanctity, Gideon could see it —
the black miasma coiling within Carlby's veins,
his blood carrying corruption like a living parasite.
The demonic influence was eating away at the barrier,
slowly weakening it — but only in small patches.
To completely break through,
hundreds more lives would need to be sacrificed.
Carlby's knees were trembling now,
his face pale and slick with sweat.
Still, the blood would not stop flowing.
It poured out unnaturally, as though something inside him was forcing it to.
Gideon's gaze hardened.
"So… the demon behind him is only testing the defenses."
But then —
a second surge of corruption erupted from inside the barrier.
Something in there had noticed Carlby's blood…
and was reaching back.
A tendril of malignant energy latched onto him,
crawling through the blood like a serpent.
Within seconds, Carlby's body began to rot.
His skin blackened, bubbling with pustules;
his flesh split open as a rancid stench filled the air.
His body twisted grotesquely, bones cracking, veins bulging like dark roots.
Gideon's eyes sharpened.
He could feel Carlby's life force being devoured—
siphoned into a struggle between two demonic powers now locked in balance.
It was an unstable equilibrium —
and if it collapsed, something unspeakable could be born from the aftermath.
He had no time to hesitate.
In the blink of an eye, Gideon's form blurred—
he vanished from the ridge where he stood.
Even Silas couldn't track the movement.
Gideon reappeared just a few meters from Carlby,
the old man's body now convulsing violently, his mouth gaping at an unnatural angle.
Without a word, Gideon drew several blessed relics from his coat
and hurled them outward in a practiced motion.
They struck the ground in a perfect circle,
forming a micro sanctum — a field of divine protection to contain the corruption.
Only then did he pull out a bottle of twenty-year-consecrated holy water,
uncorked it, and flung it straight toward Carlby's open mouth.
"Mercy through sanctity."
The glass shattered against his jaw—
a clean impact that drove shards and liquid deep into his throat.
The holy water hissed as it met the demonic essence inside him.
For a heartbeat, there was silence.
Stillness.
Even the wind seemed to hold its breath.
Then—
Carlby's blood boiled.
A surge of white steam erupted from Carlby's skin—
as if his very blood were boiling.
Gideon raised his hand, voice solemn, scripture in the other.
"Merciful Lord, grant Your light to this lost soul,
and deliver him from the grasp of darkness…"
Holy verses flowed from his lips as radiant power gathered around him.
Light poured down like a waterfall of gold, enveloping Carlby's frail body.
For a moment, the corruption receded.
The foul aura around the old man thinned—cut off, pushed back by divine radiance.
But the peace didn't last.
A new wave of demonic energy surged from within Carlby's body,
clashing violently with the holy light.
The darkness devoured the light like ink swallowing flame.
At the same time, the entity inside the barrier responded—
its power rippled outward, not to strike, but to shield the light.
The bizarre sight froze everyone in place.
Bente, Zal, and Silas stared in disbelief.
"Is… the demon helping us?"
Gideon's brows knit tightly.
He could sense the truth—the light emanating from Carlby wasn't from a divine invocation.
It came entirely from the holy water he'd just forced him to drink.
Meaning… the prayer he had recited earlier had been completely useless.
"What in the world…"
Gideon's mind raced.
Carlby was human.
He might have sinned, might even have murdered—
but the gates of Heaven only close after death.
So why couldn't he channel divine protection?
Then it struck him—
his eyes widened as a line from an ancient text surfaced in his memory.
"Those who sell their souls to demons
forsake the light of the Lord.
No prayer shall reach them—
unless the contract is destroyed."
There was only one explanation.
Carlby Price had entered into a demon's covenant.
Gideon glanced at the trembling man, pity flashing briefly in his gaze.
What promise could tempt someone to willingly surrender his soul?
He knew such contracts were never held in human hands—
only the demon itself possessed the record.
Without it, there was no way to sever the bond.
Which meant Carlby's death was, by all accounts, inevitable.
Unless—
"Wait…"
Gideon's eyes flicked toward the shards of broken glass around Carlby.
"That holy water… it worked.
If external sanctity can suppress the contract's power…"
He squinted, calculating quickly.
Getting the actual contract from Hell was impossible—
but drowning the demon's influence in sanctified light?
That, he could do.
Gideon reached into his satchel without hesitation.
Two more bottles of ten-year holy water flashed in his hands—
and then shattered in midair as he hurled them.
Shhhhk!
The bottles burst into crystalline mist,
and the field was instantly filled with a divine brilliance so pure it turned the night pale.
The ground glowed white.
The academy trio stood frozen, jaws hanging open.
They could feel the sacred energy spreading—
soft warmth, serenity, grace.
Even from a distance, it made their hearts ache with calm.
"This—this is high-grade consecration!"
"At least three years old… maybe seven!"
Silas swallowed hard, eyes glinting.
His respect for the "mysterious priest's" background deepened.
Bente, however, muttered under his breath:
"At this rate, that fancy relic shop of his won't stay in business…"
Meanwhile, the demon linked to Carlby's soul was clearly panicking.
Its corruption was being purified faster than it could regenerate.
The power it had granted its servant was being burned away—
and that loss hurt.
That energy wasn't limitless;
it was a precious resource accumulated over decades in the infernal realms.
Even a fragment of it was beyond what most exorcists could handle.
Now, that fragment was being erased before its very eyes.
Within the barrier, the other demonic entity stirred.
It stopped resisting.
Instead, it retreated—slowly, deliberately.
For a brief moment,
it hovered near the lingering holy water… as if curious.
Then it faded completely.
Gideon's relentless "holy water bombardment" finally paid off.
Carlby's corruption disintegrated.
The blood that had poured from his wrist slowed,
then stopped entirely.
The night fell quiet once more.
Even the air seemed lighter.
But Gideon knew this was not over.
The purification was temporary.
Unless Carlby were immersed in consecrated water for the rest of his life,
the infernal bond would eventually resurface.
Already, the glow of sanctity was dimming,
draining from his skin like dying embers.
Still, the old man's eyes fluttered open—
conscious at last.
"No! It can't stop!"
Carlby's sudden shout startled them.
Panic flared in his expression as he lurched forward,
reaching for the dagger lying in the dirt.
Silas moved first, catching his arm.
"What are you doing?!"
"Let go!" Carlby roared, struggling violently.
"I can't stop now!
I can't disappoint the Lord again!"
"Hey—easy there, Mr. Price," Gideon said, walking closer, voice calm but firm.
"I'd suggest you behave.
Because if you don't, that dagger will still be lying there when the sun comes up—
and you'll be too weak to crawl to it."
The students blinked.
Was this… his version of post-exorcism counseling?
That wasn't in any of their psychology training manuals.
And did he just say he'd give the dagger back?
Carlby froze, breathing ragged.
Recognition flickered in his eyes—he knew these young exorcists from before.
"You don't understand," he cried hoarsely.
"I made a pact with the Lord Himself!
If I fail to complete the offering—
my daughter… no, the entire town will be doomed!"
His voice broke into a desperate sob.
"An offering ritual?"
Everyone except Gideon gasped in shock.