Finally, Arthur and Melissa handed over some of their pocket money. William chuckled softly and smiled faintly, pleased with the way Arthur looked as if he were holding back a curse.
Before Melissa could explain, she heard small footsteps in the hallway. A girl appeared in the doorway. It was Lolita, a girl of about ten. Her face was pale, and her eyes were confused and scared.
"Lolita? It's so late! Why are you still wandering around?" Melissa asked softly as she approached her.
"I...I need to use the bathroom," the girl whispered. "But I saw Sister Margaret come out of the orphanage. She was alone. Melissa, I'm afraid something has happened to her."
Melissa immediately reassured Lolita by taking her hand and leading her back to the room. But William didn't wait. He was already on the move.
A shimmering silver butterfly emerged from his fingertips. Its translucent wings reflected a faint shimmer, like a moon shrouded in mist. The tiny creature flapped its wings gently and penetrated the windowpane, floating into the night.
William's eyes changed. The brown vanished, replaced by fiery red pupils that reflected light like blood crystals. His gaze melted into the butterfly's eyes.
He saw the city streets from above. The gloomy, deserted streets of Valmorra trembled with a wind carrying the smell of iron and dust.
Around one corner was Sister Margaret.
She walked quickly with her head bowed, occasionally turning it anxiously. She approached an old building—a church that stood out from the fog. Its tall spire loomed overhead, its silhouette piercing the sky.
Before William could investigate further, Melissa's voice called out to him, obstructing his view.
"Will, please help us find Sister Margaret. We're scared. Ever since her sister died, she's changed."
William exhaled, sounding reluctant. He sat up straight.
"Whatever. But listen carefully: If anything happens to you, I won't protect you. You came of your own free will."
Arthur clenched his fists. "This person is truly annoying!"
William let out a short laugh. It was more mocking than amusing. Somehow, it kept both of them clinging to him. Finally, the three of them left the orphanage through the back door. The night street greeted them with the whisper of the wind and the dim, flickering light of gas lamps.
Arthur chattered nonstop on the way there, asking questions and making speculations and even complaining. Until William stopped and turned sharply around.
"You asked for my help, but can't you keep your tongue shut?"
Arthur fell silent for a moment, his face flushing.
Melissa simply lowered her head, holding back a chuckle.
They arrived soon after. The building was exactly as William had envisioned:
Sanctum Misericordiae.
The church stood majestically, its ancient stone covered in moss and dampness. Its tall spire clawed at the fog, and its giant wooden doors were half open.
"This place is scary at night," Arthur whispered, pressing his body against Melissa's unconsciously.
Melissa stared at the church gate with glassy eyes and a soft voice.
"This is where Miss Madeline, Sister Margaret's sister, was married. On that very day, she died with her husband."
Silence.
William stared at the church door. His face remained impassive, but a strange glint appeared in his eyes, hinting at interest.
As soon as William stepped inside the church, a silence crept into his bones. Oil lamps swayed faintly on the stone walls, casting a dim light that reflected a majestic mural of winged angels—a sharp contrast to the painting of an exorcist crouching on the opposite wall.
The high ceilings loomed overhead like those of a prison, the wooden hallways creaked faintly, and the rows of pews formed a straight corridor as if guiding each soul to judgment. At the end stood the proud pulpit, surrounded by confessionals and old wooden doors.
William walked slowly through the center of the main hall. His eyes scanned every shadow and carved curve. There was no trace of Sister Margaret. Only cold and the damp scent of mossy stone remained.
Then, he felt it—a dark aura. It was thick and piercing, but not overwhelming. "The level of cruelty," he thought. It wasn't enough to tear the world apart, but it was strong enough to rip apart the fragile human soul.
"Sister Margaret? Sister?" Arthur's voice whispered from behind him. It sounded too loud in the deathly silence.
William turned around with lightning speed and clamped his hand over the boy's mouth. His sharp gaze made Arthur stiffen instantly. Without saying a word, William gestured with his hidden hand.
The confessional. Fortunately, it was unlocked. Melissa pulled Arthur in, and the two of them entered without protest. The heavy wooden door closed tightly behind them.
William remained alone. He was surrounded by shadows and whispers that weren't sounds.
His gaze lingered on the statue near the pulpit—a winged creature with a face more akin to a gargoyle than an angel and sharp teeth protruding from its jaws. That was where the dense mana gathered. Black mist pooled around its stone body. Then, the statue's eyes glowed red.
It wasn't a statue.
William squinted. He stared back, his eyes glowing red like embers in glass.
The statue moved. Stone crumbled from its body as the creature tore itself free from its pedestal. Its body was the size of a chubby goblin's, but its two leathery wings flapped ferociously, propelling its body toward William. Its low scream tore the air, making the pews tremble.
Sharp claws shot out, nearly ripping William's head off. He crouched slightly, letting the claws tear through the empty air. His fists were already clenched, ready to strike back. But the creature was agile and slipped away from his first blow.
William grinned faintly. Half annoyed. Half amused.
"Good."
He increased his speed.
His body melted and pulsed red, like a blood-drenched autumn maple leaf. To the human eye, he was nothing but a blur flashing between the wooden chairs.
The demon staggered in the air, its initial arrogance crumbling. It flew faster and veered wildly in the worst possible direction: toward the confessional.
William showed no mercy.
"How dare you target the weak?" His voice was flat and cold, full of scorn.
He lunged and grabbed the demon's head in midair with one hand. He slammed the demon's head into the stone floor. Cracks spread and a small explosion echoed beneath the high dome. Dust flew as fragments of stone leaped from the small crater that formed.
The creature curled up and groaned. William raised his hand, ready to crush the demon's skull in one fell swoop.
But a blue flash appeared. It was fast and sharp as it struck the air right next to William's face. The light sparked and shattered the wooden floor beneath him.
Reflexively, William jumped back. His eyes scanned the room, searching for the source of the attack.
The main door of the church creaked open. It was empty. Only the night mist seeped in.
When he turned around, the demon had disappeared. Only a crater remained.
William stood still. His breathing was steady, but his mind was racing as he put the pieces together.
"So that's it..." he murmured, his voice more demonic than human.
"The Fierce-Level Demon was just bait."