Chapter 167 – Return of Consciousness
"My faith belongs to the merciful, radiant, and righteous Holy Father. I have no idea what you're talking about," Gideon said with a puzzled look on his face.
Though his words were dismissive, his eyes carefully studied the figures around him.
"If these spirit-threads bind all of them together… then they must also be linking their minds," Gideon thought to himself.
After a moment, he reached out with his intent toward one of the figures.
The figure belonged to a young man.
Within the looping illusion, he was embracing a beautiful woman on a railway platform.
Gideon tore through the veneer—and saw the truth beneath it.
The real scene unfolded in a land far from North America.
A man and a woman met in a bombed-out building. Her family had been butchered by bandits—decapitated heads impaled on stakes outside their home.
The man was part of a security force. His only duty was to protect the remaining survivors.
That very night, a warm body slipped into his bed.
The next day, one of the bandits was mysteriously found dead.
There was no love between the man and the woman—only a transaction.
Afterward, she began feeding him intelligence. Each time, all he received were bloodstained slips of paper—but he always knew they came from her.
With that information, the local militants quickly collapsed.
The man rose in rank.
When evacuation day came, he saw her again at the station.
She only looked at him silently. She didn't ask to leave with him—though he could have taken her.
After returning home, her face began to haunt his dreams. Sleepless night after sleepless night, until finally he went back for her.
All he found… was her grave.
On the night he left, the bandits had come for her.
They tortured her in unspeakable ways—and killed the child in her womb.
For "political reasons," the man was forbidden to act.
Crushed beneath the weight of helplessness, he returned alone and eventually drowned himself in addiction.
Gideon let out a soft breath.
"So this is your 'truth'… No wonder people can't bear it."
Text appeared before him once more.
???: He abandoned meaningless suffering and found peace within himself.
Gideon snorted.
"Hiding inside an illusion is just painting over cowardice.
"If you truly want to let go of the past, then abandon the fantasy that binds you to it.
"If your heart is filled with hatred, then you should seek justice against the guilty.
"Hesitation is nothing more than an excuse for inaction."
He extended his will through Psychological Guidance, probing the man's core.
???: Blasphemer. Your actions are meaningless.
???: We are one unified entity. Your words will be rejected by all souls.
Gideon raised an eyebrow.
"Good. That saves me a lot of time."
His voice echoed outward along the spirit-threads, resonating within every figure.
With Psychological Counseling, the souls inside the sphere instinctively trusted him.
The spiritual lines began to tremble—as though they were about to snap.
Inside each "figure," radiant clusters ignited.
They were their true consciousnesses, awakening.
???: Stop! Blasphemer, you cannot destroy the 'Unified Will'!
Gideon rubbed his chin lightly.
"Angry? That's interesting. I thought emotion was 'meaningless.'"
The text vanished again, as though even it had nothing left to say.
As more souls awakened, the space itself began to quake.
A torrent of blackened energy erupted from the core of the light-sphere and screamed toward Gideon—
—but in the next instant, brilliant holy light surged from his body, cleansing it in a flash.
???: Such terrifying mental force… who are you?
Gideon didn't answer.
Instead, he erased the remaining scraps of foreign consciousness from before him.
"I don't like people writing in front of my eyes."
(…unless it's useful.)
With that, every spiritual connection snapped.
The light-sphere collapsed, exposing the silent void behind it.
In the next heartbeat—
countless vortices twisted open across the space.
Gideon sensed a familiar presence there.
"Return to your bodies," he said, pointing ahead.
At once, the drifting spirits moved as one, gliding into the vortices and vanishing one by one.
At the same time, enormous glowing characters formed out of energy in the void:
???: Blasphemer. Body and soul are nothing but illusions. In the end, all will return as one and become part of the "Hollow Ones."
Gideon replied calmly, "The threats of a loser mean nothing."
???: Blasphemer. Speak your name. You will pay the price for it.
"Tell you my name so you can come find me?"
Gideon looked at the message as if staring at an idiot.
"You villains are always asking the strangest things."
With that, he drifted toward the nearest vortex. Only a handful of spirits remained now, and in moments he too stepped inside.
Soon, the void was left with nothing but those glowing words.
---
Back at the Auditorium
Haggai and the others were guarding Gideon's body.
All of a sudden, a vortex opened above the seats. Countless orbs of light poured out, flying straight into the motionless bodies scattered throughout the hall.
"What is that?" Bente rubbed his eyes.
"Oh, praise be to the Lord… Father Gideon has succeeded," Archbishop Mattheus said brightly, crossing himself.
Even he was astonished.
"With a soul-wave on this scale… what on earth did he encounter in there?"
The others broke into smiles when they heard this.
Then Gideon slowly opened his eyes.
[Psychological Counseling +632]
The notification flickered before him. He noted it mentally but didn't dwell on it.
"Father Gideon! You're awake!"
Bente exclaimed and hurriedly passed him a bottle of holy water—the one he'd been told to prepare earlier.
Gideon drained it, quickly checked himself for abnormalities, and then stood up.
The theology students had seen his abilities too many times to be shocked.
But Haggai looked genuinely stunned. He hadn't expected Gideon to really bring those lost souls back.
Compared to that… he, a priest of the Vatican, couldn't even use holy artifacts.
The thought made his heart sink.
"Don't be discouraged. I'm the same as you," Caroline patted him gently.
Who wants to be like you?!
Haggai twitched.
"Father Gideon! Even though you're just a local priest, you're way better than an archbishop's student!" Caroline added, eyes shining.
…Two sentences. Three people offended.
The three theology students nearly broke into a cold sweat.
If the clergy from St. Peter's weren't still unconscious, that number might've gone even higher.
"Cough."
Archbishop Mattheus recited scripture furiously to keep himself from losing his temper.
He walked up to Gideon, admiration in his gaze.
"Father, your courage and strength command my respect."
Then he lowered his voice.
"Say… are you any good at climbing walls? I happen to have a confidential diocesan assignment…"
At that moment, others in the hall were also beginning to wake up.
Bettice opened her eyes slowly.
"Wh… what happened?"
Her confusion lasted only a second. Clear consciousness returned instantly, and she sprang to her feet, gripping her cross.
"Easy, Sister Bettice…"
Archbishop Mattheus explained what had occurred.
Bettice stared at Gideon, her emerald eyes full of curiosity.
When her mind had been corrupted, it had felt like a dream.
The past had been painful…
but later, she'd heard a voice.
Gentle. Steady. Warm.
It had guided her back.
"So it was him…"
She bowed lightly.
"Thank you… for saving my life."
---
Earlier – City Hall, Second Floor Corridor
"Tch. Rotten luck. To run into someone like that," Mashal growled darkly.
"This is the result of your misjudgment," Abraham replied flatly.
Mashal narrowed his eyes. "Are you saying I'm making excuses?"
Abraham didn't answer directly.
"Anniversary Day was a good opportunity. But after past failures, the Church was bound to prepare defenses."
"Without Lucifer and Belial, relying on Sira alone meant our high-end strength was lacking."
Mashal snorted. "Are we really that useless?"
Abraham adjusted his glasses.
"I'm not a combatant."
"And although you've received the 'Grafting,' your strength still falls short. Otherwise Lucifer wouldn't have said you 'needed more time.'"
"Being able to take away these clerics at all was already good fortune."
Mashal turned away with a click of his tongue.
"Hmph. Arrogant bastard."
But in his mind, that young priest's face resurfaced.
I'll remember you, human priest.
Abraham spoke again, "How's the surgery prep?"
The creation of the Skull of Despair required living clerics with highly active brains, so they couldn't take everyone with them.
And if contamination occurred during the operation, all their efforts would be wasted.
"Relax," Mashal said coldly, confidence flashing in his eyes.
"Even though we failed inside the hall, my backup plans are more than sufficient."
To prepare for situations like this, he'd planted over a dozen emergency measures.
Enough to guarantee their operation here in the corridors.
He pointed toward a corner ahead.
"The evil idol is there."
The two rounded the corner—
Mashal's eyes widened.
"What… is this?"
He stared at the wide-open door… and the paper taped to it.
"The evil idol is inside," Abraham read aloud.
"…These people are thorough. Even this hidden position was discovered," Mashal said through clenched teeth.
Repeated failures were making him lose face before his partner—
and in their organization, that was dangerous.
The Wings of Vengeance did not tolerate useless members.
"Let's move to the next site," Mashal snapped.
No one understood traps better… than those who lived by hurting others.
They swept through the outer floors in a rush.
"Damn it!"
Mashal's roar thundered down the corridor.
Every single backup location he'd prepared… had been exposed and dismantled.
One face rose in his mind.
Only that man could've done this.
"We're running out of time," Abraham warned.
"I know."
Mashal's eyes flashed with ferocity.
"I refuse to believe he managed to wire every site with traps."
Dark green liquid surged over his skin as he strode toward the next door—head-on.