Jonathan had returned to the church, changed clothes, and spent the day resting. His understanding of The Healing Church had deepened, making it clear that it was, in fact, a very dominant organization.
The renovations being made to his church were already noticeable, even though not a full day had passed. As planned, the church would remain closed for a while—at least until people could enter without noticing the internal changes.
"I just hope they can hold out," Jonathan murmured as he returned to his main house, the place where he usually rested when injured.
The world needed priests, exorcists, hunters, and agents—but they also needed to rest. Jonathan was no exception. Now that he was badly wounded, he needed to relax at home.
Reflecting on his mistakes and analyzing his new abilities turned his skills into a real automatic response whenever he was in danger.
Undressing, Jonathan walked to the outer garden that connected directly to the public forest. After changing into casual clothes, he sat down.
This world didn't feel normal. The current year should render most technology obsolete, yet compared to his own world, this one was more advanced.
There was no real difference from the era Jonathan came from—the only inconsistency was the year, as this world was about to enter the early 20th century.
"I suppose he should be arriving soon," Jonathan murmured, levitating a can of soda with his telekinesis and opening it with ease.
Thanks to his combat adaptation, using telekinesis now felt like flexing a familiar muscle. And he was surprised—his newly gained abilities were gradually bringing him closer to the power he had always desired.
"Hey, man—you, the tired-looking guy—do you know where Father Jonathan Belmont lives?" asked an African American man, slightly chubby and wearing a violet-toned cassock, as he approached Jonathan, panting for breath.
"Have a beer," Jonathan replied, glancing briefly at the priest who, for obvious reasons, seemed to be his newly assigned assistant from The Healing Church. Jonathan sighed slightly, disappointed.
This is the best The Healing Church could send me?
"Oh, hell yeah, I'm parched." The priest grabbed the beer and chugged it down in one long gulp that lasted over a minute. "Mind if I sit down?"
"Go ahead. You can rest." Jonathan was taken aback by the priest—aside from his cassock, he lacked all the usual traits one would expect from a clergyman.
"Thanks. By the way, I'm Father Doug. Just call me Doug—I'm not into all that formal crap people use when they see my cassock." Father Doug seemed to have a strong personality—too much to be considered a burden.
Sensing Jonathan's silence, Father Doug smiled and added, "Well, that's what they called me when I preached the word of the Almighty God in prison. I'm not kidding—becoming a priest was the best decision I ever made. Nobody messes with a priest in there. Even the white guys respected me."
"I get it. Must've been a relief to be free of the gangs." Jonathan handed Father Doug another beer without even looking at him, focusing instead on the people playing with their pets in the distance.
Jonathan imagined that the priest beside him had his own field experience—different from that of a conventional priest—which was a good thing. It meant Jonathan would have backup.
Father Doug, already feeling quite at ease, whispered, "You live in a damn nice place. Wanna be real with you? The world out there is darker than my skin, brother. Believe me."
"At my last church, a Black guy straight from the streets had the devil in him. And guess what? He got a greeting from the Evangelizer 3000." Doug pulled out a golden revolver and gave it a few dramatic twirls.
"With this revolver, I've been busting demon asses from Texas all the way to this godforsaken place. It's called the Evangelizer 3000... because when it hits, even demons scream… Hallelujah!"
After saying that, Father Doug looked at Jonathan again. When he saw the cross on Jonathan's chest, he holstered the weapon and asked hesitantly, "Are you my superior?"
"You hungry?" Jonathan stood up, set his beer aside, and walked toward the cabin.
"Of course! This Black man never says no to food." Father Doug followed Jonathan into the cabin.
He opened his mouth, wanting to say something else, but in the end, couldn't find the right words to express himself to such a serious superior. He sighed quietly.
After walking in silence for a while, they reached a door leading to a secondary basement, away from the hallway connected to the church.
Jonathan pressed a hidden button. While they waited for the elevator, he finally introduced himself: "I'm Jonathan Belmont. From now on, you'll work as my right hand. If I give an order, you follow it. My word on missions is law. If you can't follow it, we probably won't get along."
"I'll get that tattooed," Father Doug nodded repeatedly, visibly more relaxed. He seemed to sense that Jonathan didn't really care how he acted.
Finally, the walls opened to reveal an elevator.
After stepping inside, Jonathan used his DNA to activate the panel and pressed the zero button.
The door closed, and the elevator began to descend.
As the numbers changed, Jonathan explained, "Without DNA verification, pressing any button triggers an explosion that wipes out whoever's inside this elevator."
Father Doug was stunned for a moment before nervously smiling. "Damn, this is some professional-level shit. Feels like we're in an Italian mob flick."
His tone gradually softened as he remembered that The Healing Church was essentially that—a mafia that forced those who witnessed evil to face it for the rest of their lives.
For Father Doug, The Healing Church was no different. His first encounter with evil forces had been during an exorcism that went terribly wrong.
After that day, he was given two choices: spend the rest of his life at a desk… or be out in the field, completely free.
If he was here now, the choice he made was obvious. And that, simply put, was the story of how he ended up in this godforsaken place.
After an unknown amount of time, the elevator stopped, revealing a place completely different from what was above.
As Jonathan stepped out, he pointed to the end of the hallway and said, "When we're off-duty, we rest here. My room's at the end—pick any other empty one."
"You know… I'm claustrophobic. I could just live in the cabin if that's okay with you," Father Doug said, clearly not thrilled about sleeping in a bunker. From his perspective, it didn't seem necessary.
But Jonathan denied him, saying, "Let me remind you—the previous priest was killed on a mission. We're the only church for miles, and that makes us a prime target for the evil that surrounds us."
"I didn't hear anything about that…"
"Well, then they lied to you. Now we're in this together, and if you want to stay alive, I suggest you start listening to my advice." Jonathan paused, remembering something. "Oh, tomorrow at noon, we're heading out on our first mission together. I'll be evaluating your performance."
"Already got that recorded—literally," said Father Doug as he clicked off a handheld recorder.
That left Jonathan momentarily speechless—slowly but surely, he was starting to accept the eccentric personality of this priest.