Chapter 160: The Reversal Ritual
Haggai's eyes flickered with doubt.
Gideon calmly explained:
"Sister Caroline and I cleared two floors of the municipal building earlier.
But the remaining levels, along with all the offices, haven't been checked yet."
He paused, sweeping his gaze across the dim hallway.
"Those cultists may have planted additional contingencies."
Haggai, who had initially assumed Gideon was just being overly cautious—or stingy—found himself nodding in agreement after hearing this.
"Fair point."
Soon after, Bruce and the other redeemed monsters were divided into groups.
Half remained with Gideon and the two clergymen.
The rest spread out into different corridors.
At one point, Haggai suggested:
"We could each take a group. It would speed things up."
Gideon refused instantly.
"Splitting up is the first step toward a team wipe."
Haggai silently repeated the sentence to himself.
Splitting up is the first step toward a team wipe...
Thinking back on countless old exorcism case files, he realized the truth of it.
Many exorcist teams had fallen apart because of overconfidence and dividing their forces too early.
He nodded with newfound respect.
"Only someone with extensive exorcism experience could summarize it so concisely.
I must remember to include this in the canon."
As the Church's official archivist, Haggai was compiling a new theological manual—one designed for low rank clergy, summarizing practical survival rules gleaned from ancient records.
Its purpose was simple: increase survival rates.
After sweeping several rooms, they finally discovered something suspicious.
Gideon stopped before a stone statue.
It had a humanoid body—
but with fleshy wings.
An angel…?
No.
The twisted face, talon-like fingers, and the malignant aura seeping from its surface declared it for what it truly was:
Haggai inhaled sharply.
"A Fallen Effigy…"
His voice carried genuine surprise.
"Inside it sleeps a shard of corrupted origin-energy.
It taints everything around it."
Gideon crouched down, brushing his fingers over the floor.
Rotting streaks spread like veins from the statue's base—quiet, subtle, and easy to miss.
Haggai continued, recalling the descriptions from ancient texts:
"These effigies make excellent hidden sacrificial nodes.
They spread corruption unnoticed.
And that sliver of origin-energy inside can even serve as fuel for the cultists."
Gideon straightened.
"A fallback measure, then."
Since they had found it, leaving it intact was not an option.
Haggai turned toward Caroline, preparing to ask her to purify it with a sacred artifact—
But Gideon suddenly spoke up:
"Father Haggai, earlier you mentioned a ritual that can reverse a power structure… correct?"
If this statue was indeed a hidden fallback planted by the cultists, then once their plan at the main venue failed, they would almost certainly activate it.
Simply purifying it now would be a waste.
Why not lace it with something stronger—
and perhaps wipe out the cultists entirely?
After hearing Gideon's idea, Haggai stared at him with a strange look.
"Will the Lord forgive us for being… this ruthless?" Caroline whispered uncertainly.
Such trickery—dark, underhanded—felt completely unlike something a proper clergyman should suggest.
Gideon's answer was calm:
"Mercy toward the enemy is cruelty toward your own."
Haggai's eyes lit up.
Another line worth preserving in the Church archives.
"Caroline," he added solemnly, "the New Testament teaches us that as long as one recognizes their sins and repents sincerely, redemption is possible."
"We are cleansing evil. The Lord will understand."
Caroline muttered softly:
"Feels more like an excuse to justify ourselves…"
Haggai's face twitched.
"Caroline… you don't have to say it out loud…"
Gideon merely shrugged.
In his previous life, he had studied enough religious history to know these doctrines were ultimately tools of those in power—flexible, malleable, and often adjusted whenever convenient.
Like how the Old Testament mandated circumcision to symbolize "shedding mortal desires,"
but the New Testament swapped it for baptism—easier, less painful, more widely accepted.
Spared many brothers from suffering.
Haggai then handed Gideon the full structure of the reversal ritual.
This was knowledge normally forbidden from casual dissemination.
But with the current crisis, and with Gideon being personally summoned by Archbishop Borja, Haggai didn't hesitate.
"Ah… so that's how it works."
Gideon understood immediately.
Holy power and demonic corruption both originate from the same unknowable space.
It is their assimilation—by priest or demon—that produces different attributes.
A ritual's energy behaves the same way.
Even if the ritual was cast by cultists,
if you convert the origin-layer of its energy, you can rewrite the entire ritual.
This was, in fact, the safest method.
Previously in the sunflower fields, Gideon had halted a ritual by purifying its sacrificial nodes.
But Haggai warned:
"The sacrificial component maintains the ritual's balance.
Destroying it can trigger an overflow, leading to unpredictable disasters."
He recounted historical incidents—
ritual imbalances that tore open cracks for demons to invade.
Gideon nodded.
Seemed he had been lucky last time.
He also realized something else:
knowledge of this caliber belonged only to the Church's uppermost tier.
Perhaps it really was time for him to "move upward."
With Haggai assisting, Gideon completed the reversal ritual swiftly.
When the fallen effigy lit up with holy light, Haggai's eyes widened.
He hadn't expected this priest to be so gifted.
Reversing spiritual attributes required not only immense holy power,
but precise, refined control—
akin to threading a needle during an earthquake.
Archbishop Borja himself hadn't managed it until his years at the Exorcist Seminary.
And yet Gideon, a mere priest, succeeded in one try.
Haggai couldn't help but feel a stab of envy.
If only I could freely use my holy power… perhaps I too would be like this…
Gideon then placed the effigy in full view on a desk.
Next, he deployed a small isolation barrier around it.
Haggai and Caroline exchanged confused looks.
"This will hide its holy signature, yes," Haggai said, "but… won't the cultists instantly know tampering occurred?"
Gideon didn't answer.
Instead, he continued placing traps throughout the room—
a cross above the doorframe,
holy water wedged in drawer corners,
concealed sigils under the carpet…
Ten traps in a single tiny room.
Caroline and Haggai both sucked in a breath.
But Gideon wasn't finished.
He left the door wide open, then taped a large sign outside:
→ F A L L E N E F F I G Y I N S I D E
Following the arrow, anyone approaching could clearly see the effigy sitting on the desk.
An apple on the Tree of Eden.
A temptation placed right in the open.
"Whether they discover it or not doesn't matter," Gideon finally said.
"I'm giving them a choice…
When they're cornered, they'll gamble that the effigy is safe."
He smiled gently.
A smile that made both Haggai and Caroline shiver.
They could already imagine the scene:
A desperate cultist searching for the hidden fallback…
Finding the room…
Seeing the blatantly posted sign…
Summoning courage, stepping inside—
Triggering ten layers of traps.
And if he survived, believing he'd overcome the worst—
Only for the real reversal ritual to activate.
Truly vicious.
Haggai and Caroline silently echoed the same thought:
Too sinister.
Way too sinister.