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71.39% Exorcist in America / Chapter 281: Chapter 281: God and the Church Are Dead

Chương 281: Chapter 281: God and the Church Are Dead

If the road was entirely paved with pebbles, York could assume this world was somewhat primitive, perhaps seeing some steam-powered machines.

If the road seemed to appear spontaneously amidst travel by horse and cart, it would suggest an even more primitive era, like the medieval period, where he might encounter corseted noblewomen and so-called noble knights.

However, as York instantly covered a distance of one hundred meters, he observed that the road cutting across the wilderness was paved with asphalt, sand sparkles, or possibly concrete.

"It seems this world is roughly equivalent to the modern era and also inhabited by humans."

York felt relieved as he stepped onto the road.

"This is manageable. It's plausible that everyone possesses supernatural abilities, or one might assume it's an apocalyptic setting given the desolation."

For York, as long as it was a human world, he wouldn't feel so alone.

Humans are social creatures, and he was no exception. Even if he had learned to enjoy solitude and isolation, he still preferred living in a human world.

Following his predetermined goal, York continued along the road, trying to find traces of his kind.

As he walked and observed, he dismissed the theory of a world where monsters and humans coexisted since he had traveled alone for so long without encountering any danger—not even a single monster.

Using his superhuman eyesight and hearing, along with the ability to control a hundred-meter radius like a scanning radar, the only life forms York encountered were wild animals like antelopes, mice, and snakes.

"This can rule out the theory of an apocalypse."

York looked ahead, his gaze following the road that seemed to stretch endlessly into the horizon as if it had no end.

"What exactly is going on here? Is this what the old man meant by a journey?"

Feeling he might have a long way to go, York couldn't help but feel helpless.

He was prepared for everything, yet since arriving in this other world, he hadn't discovered anything significant.

"No, there have been some findings."

York looked up at the sky, discerning a detail that shifted his perspective. Beyond the floating shards, the bright sky seemed veiled by a thin, blurry sheath.

At first, he thought it was due to the shards, but now it appeared more like a black gauzy cloud swirling around, easy to miss if not observed closely.

Therefore, he hadn't discarded the possibility of an apocalyptic environment.

Overall, aside from these observations and theories, York had no other new information to ponder.

"Just keep going, there will be new discoveries."

York stared ahead, continuing along the road.

Though the road seemed endless and bordered only by wild, tangled grasses, York was patient.

After all, as long as he followed the road, he would eventually reach a populated area.

Sure enough, after an unknown duration, he began to find modern human debris—plastic bottles, rusty metal scraps.

This indicated he was getting closer to where his kind resided.

After traveling a great distance, although there was no way to tell time, York estimated it was between three and five in the afternoon by the sun's position.

At this moment, York reached an intersection and scanned around again, finding no trace of humanity.

"Even traveling at 40 km/h, I still haven't left this area? How vast is this world…"

York shook his head, mentally preparing to spend the night in the wilderness.

Fortunately, having transcended human limits, he could survive without food, drink, or sleep for a month, barely feeling the cold or heat of the seasons.

So spending the night in the wilderness, using the sky as his blanket and the ground as his bed, didn't bother him much.

However, just as he was about to slow down and prepare for the night, York's eyes brightened as he looked to the right.

"There's someone at last!"

In his mind's three-dimensional map, a rudimentary pickup truck burst into view.

Inside was a middle-aged woman.

What made him raise his eyebrows was her appearance: thin, with deeply etched wrinkles, tightly pressed lips, sharp features, and a stern expression that spoke of years of hardship and a touch of cold alertness that kept people at a distance.

Her icy, no-nonsense demeanor made York think his attempt at hitchhiking might fail.

"But I have to try; appearances can be deceiving."

York put on his best compassionate smile from his priestly days, stepped back to the edge of the road, extended his right hand, and gave a thumbs up.

As the pickup approached, the middle-aged woman seemed to take a careful look at him.

Just that look, and despite York's compassionate smile, the pickup truck sped past without stopping.

"Ah, the human heart, so cold."

Watching the pickup disappear into the distance, leaving a cloud of dust behind, York felt no despair because he knew following the truck would lead him to a human settlement.

He understood the woman's caution; in his past life, if someone had tried to hitch a ride with him in the wilderness, he wouldn't have even given them a glance, let alone stopped, fearing trouble.

Who knew if the hitchhiker was a murderer or an escapee?

Thus, York calmly retracted his hand and started heading in the direction the pickup had gone.

But then something unexpected happened.

Before he could take a few steps, the pickup that had left his hundred-meter map range turned around and re-entered the area, heading back toward him.

"Could this be a change of heart?"

York watched as the pickup, kicking up dust, reappeared before him and instinctively stopped.

He wasn't wrong; the pickup deliberately stopped in front of him.

The middle-aged woman glanced at his satchel and black robe, as if recognizing something.

"Get in."

Her cold voice emerged.

York tucked away his thoughts, nodded, and under her watchful eye, opened the door and got in.

After he closed the door, the middle-aged woman started the truck again, turning it around in a cloud of dust and setting off without a word.

York was curious because it seemed she recognized him as a priest.

He glanced at the rear-view mirror and noticed an old satchel on the back seat.

"Thank you for letting me hitch a ride, but I'm curious why you came back?"

York looked at the middle-aged woman.

He needed to understand more.

"Were you a priest before?"

However, the woman's response caught him off guard.

"Haven't you given up that useless identity?"

York's eyes narrowed silently, continuing along her line of questioning: "Why should I give up?"

The woman fell silent after his question, finally only saying one thing.

"Oh, to think a priest as devout as you appears in an age where God and the Church are dead."

Looking at him, there was an unfathomable sadness in her eyes.

"Where are you going?"

Still absorbing the information that God and the Church were dead, York frowned and pressed down his curiosity and speculation, answering seriously.

"I don't know, I just came out of the deep mountains."

Saying this, York played it smart, tapping his head.

"I find I have no memory of this world, as if I've selectively forgotten everything. The only thing I know is that I was once a priest."

With that, York clearly saw the woman's momentary daze, her pupils dilating.

"A priest?"

York, keenly observing her reaction

, knew he had guessed right; besides priests, there should also be priests in this world.

After all, his identity was indeed that of a priest, though in the real world, priests are part of the Church, just in a different role compared to priests, who are more like the Church's logistical staff and managers.

But in his past life, priests and pastors belonged to different denominations. While there weren't many differences between them, that didn't mean there were no differences at all.

After all, different names and denominations meant inherent differences.

Priests not only conducted Mass and weddings but also prayed for the dying, performed confessions, and even exorcisms.

Pastors, on the other hand, were primarily responsible for leading and caring for other Christians, focusing on healing and support, more towards protection and management.

In essence, priests meant servants of God, while the original Biblical term for pastor meant shepherd...

"Why are there still priests..."

Clearly, the woman was taken aback, just staring at him, her focus lost.

The car began to veer towards the right side of the road, heading straight into the wilderness.

York quickly grabbed the steering wheel from the woman's hands, stabilizing the vehicle.

"What are you doing?"

With that, the woman snapped back to reality, hastily gaining control of the steering wheel, but she was still caught up in her previous emotions.

"Are you really a priest from the legends?"

Her reaction perplexed York; he didn't understand why the presence of a priest would astonish her so much, given that pastors also existed.

But he had some guesses.

"In my memory, I am indeed a priest."

Saying this, York, as if afraid the woman wouldn't believe him, began pulling items from his satchel.

A heavy Bible that could kill a man if thrown, a bishop's staff he possessed.

All these were things belonging to the religious domain.

For the first time, the woman broke her icy demeanor, absorbing the shocking information, she took a deep breath.

"Do you really have nowhere else to go?"

York nodded, knowing his approach was working. Perhaps today he would learn everything about this world.

What exactly did "God and the Church are dead" mean, and why was his identity as a priest so astonishing that it was described as legendary?

The woman glanced at the man sitting in the passenger seat, saw him nod, and couldn't help but exhale softly, then she pressed the gas pedal.

The humble pickup truck roared to life, thundering forward.

...

As darkness fell, York mentally calculated they had traveled about fifty kilometers when he looked towards a house appearing in their view.

This house stood alone in the wilderness, without any nearby support.

The only things around were a small grove of trees, and in the pitch-black night, the house appeared very desolate—not a place ordinary people would dare to live.

He glanced at the calm woman driving.

Through their journey, he had only learned that this woman's name was Myrta.

Just that.

But that didn't stop him from wondering what circumstances led Myrta to live here alone.

"We're here, get out."

Myrta parked the truck in front of the house, looking at the man who had been quiet all along in the passenger seat.

Maybe it was an illusion, but on this drive, she felt, after decades, a sense of security she hadn't felt in years.

This made Myrta start to believe the man's words.

A priest known for performing exorcisms.

"Mm."

York's gaze shifted from the dimly lit house, only illuminated by the headlights, and followed Myrta out of the truck.

As he surveyed the surroundings, he followed Myrta to the house's front door and couldn't help but ask.

"Why do you live here alone?"

Myrta, inserting the key into the lock, paused subconsciously.

"It's a long story…"

After saying this, she turned the key with a click, pushing open the front door.

"Come in."

York slightly raised his eyebrows and followed her inside.

However, what he didn't expect was that despite the presence of a modern pickup truck and the house having light bulbs, even a refrigerator,

Myrta, under his gaze, fumbled for a while before pulling out a lighter and lighting a kerosene lamp placed on the central table.

This was somewhat unexpected.

But judging by Myrta's movements and the nearly spent kerosene lamp, she had done this countless times.

"Have a seat."

Myrta looked at the man standing still, pursed her lips, and said with a complicated look.

"Although I don't know where you came from, you seem very confused, like a stranger who knows nothing about this world, but rest assured, I will explain it all to you."

York nodded, still following Myrta's instructions, pulled up a stool and sat down.

As he settled, Myrta returned to the kitchen next to the table. Under York's God's-eye view, she lit a candle placed on an old shelf and brought out some bread and drinks.

"I'm sorry, this is all I have to eat." Myrta placed the plate on the table, then sat down looking at the man with a somewhat apologetic tone.

York shook his head, looking at Myrta whose expression shifted in the flickering light, calmly said, "It's okay, I'm not hungry. But could you tell me what exactly is going on with this world?"

Pausing briefly, he directly added,

"And why was my identity as a priest so unbelievable to you?"

Portraying himself as an uninformed individual, he believed Myrta would take on the role of enlightening him about this world.

Because, through the three-dimensional map, from a bedroom in the house, he had seen a church deacon's uniform...

Thank you to the two generous donors, Jorge and Hua, for their tips!

Thank you for your support!

Today, the editor promoted this post, but the response was underwhelming. It was hard to get featured.

Everyone said the comments and favorites would explode, but I'm still waiting, it's so quiet, almost like it never happened… so disappointing…

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Chương 282: Chapter 282: A Unique World

Despite the situation reaching this point, York saw unease on Myrta's face.

It was clear; her hands were clenched under the table, and her face showed visible hesitation, a far cry from her previously cold and efficient demeanor.

"Are you really a priest?" she asked again, uneasily.

"Of course."

York nodded gently, his curiosity now piqued.

He wondered why, in a world with pastors, the identity of a priest seemed so mysterious. If there was one significant difference, it would be the duty of exorcism inherent to priests.

Thus, he had already considered demons.

But if it was about demons, wouldn't this world be too simple for him?

*Sigh*

After reconfirming, as if about to confess, Myrta's breathing became heavy.

"I've mentioned to you before about the death of God and the Church."

York nodded.

"I'm curious, why?"

"Because..."

Myrta looked at the kerosene lamp, its light illuminating her solemn face, and said, "The Rot."

Hearing this new term, York instinctively narrowed his eyes.

"The Rot?"

Momentarily pondering, still unclear about what it meant, York calmly asked.

"What is that?"

"Figures you wouldn't know." Myrta seemed relieved.

"The Rot, messengers chosen by demons."

Myrta spoke somberly, glancing at the man before her, trying to discern something from his immediate reaction. Instead, she found only astonishment and surprise, not the fear or distrust she expected.

On the contrary, it seemed he believed in the existence of demons...

"You don't seem surprised?"

Hearing the word 'demon,' York smiled. "Because I am a priest who has faced such things."

With that revelation, Myrta's breathing intensified.

"Is your surprise at my identity merely because priests can perform exorcisms?" York inquired calmly.

"Are there no priests in this world?"

Myrta bit her lip, closing her eyes.

"Because we once didn't believe in the existence of demons."

With that statement, York started to grasp the situation.

This world might really differ from what he knew.

"Due to a long period of peace, compared to the serious priests, pastors became more popular."

Myrta sighed.

"Eventually, priests disappeared."

Meaning there were no exorcists or means of exorcism left? This world indeed operated differently, each world with its history and characteristics.

Earth without the supernatural, the real world with it, the Church unified, while here, God and the Church are dead.

Piece by piece, he deduced that the populace of this world, or this nation, likely no longer held any real faith.

York glanced at Myrta, following her lead.

"The priests vanished, and the demons you didn't believe in suddenly appeared?"

York was curious about what led to the term 'The Rot', which sounded like merely a host for demons.

Myrta nodded, a sadness emerging unexpectedly.

"Would you like to hear my story?"

"Of course."

Having an NPC-like character to introduce the world's lore, York was very willing.

"I was once part of the church..." Myrta began, her hands tightening beneath the table.

"My husband was a pastor."

York wasn't surprised, having deduced as much from everything in the house.

What he didn't expect was Myrta's admission that they were frauds.

"We once owned a church, but we were all frauds, not true believers in God, just faithless deceivers."

York narrowed his eyes.

"So, like others, we didn't believe in demons."

"We committed many acts of blasphemy to make money."

Myrta's emotionless recounting echoed in the ordinary room.

"..."

"We hired actors to pretend to be possessed by demons, mimicking those described in ancient texts,"

"Then we'd perform exorcisms."

"As our reputation grew, some sought our help, believing their loved ones were possessed..."

Myrta's expression showed pain.

"Yet, those people were merely sick. My husband and I pretended to exorcise while amassing wealth through medicine."

As Myrta's pain surfaced, York internally shook his head.

"God exists."

He believed Myrta now understood this, but he continued listening like a confessor hearing a penitent's sins.

"Wealth was real, demons were not. We indulged in excess, thinking it would last forever."

Myrta's pain turned to tears, possibly because the man before her was a legendary exorcist and priest, she dropped her facade for the first time.

"Eventually, demons appeared. The first possessed person in Elison City appeared in our church, even in its inconspicuous location."

Myrta spoke painfully, trapped in the memory of that day's terror.

"At first, we were horrified by the possessed person's performance, thinking they were our hired actor,"

"He cooperated, until during the ritual, he laughed maniacally, spat on us, cursed God, and foretold our doom."

"We realized in terror..."

"He had regurgitated his family members, having consumed them the night before..."

Myrta's voice was despairing.

"Then, we understood we were facing a true demon possession. Panic set in as we sought any help, but the people looked to us, hoping we, the exorcists, could succeed."

York, still piecing together the demon's nature and appearance mechanisms, felt Myrta's despair.

"But they didn't know we were frauds. Eventually, my husband became a spirit controlled by a demon, dying in that exorcism, and with the demon's emergence, half the village and town perished..."

Myrta's growing anguish and fear shook her.

"From that day, God was dead, and the Church died with it..."

She couldn't escape the memory, trembling uncontrollably. York couldn't bear to press further, instead snapping his fingers.

A profound divine power radiated from him, warming the once-chill atmosphere.

With the spreading holy light, the kerosene lamp brightened.

Myrta, interrupted and freed from her fear, looked up, tears streaming, to find a comforting smile.

"I have a question. Did you manage to deal with that demon or could you tell me everything about The Rot?"

York's tone was calm and authoritative, and Myrta sensed an undeniable authority in the young-looking man.

"Who is this man?" she wondered.

Yet, wiping away her tears, Myrta complied, hoping the man before her was the legendary priest she yearned for.

"God, please cast your gaze upon this world..."

"..."

York then understood this world.

It was starkly different from his own, with a distinct history.

Here, the Church had priests, pastors, bishops, once flourishing.

But at some point, the Church plummeted from its zenith.

History broke there; people only knew the Church had lost its former glory from that era.

The Church of now was merely a shadow of its past, without priests, due to lost traditions.

Peace reigned, leading to a disorganized and chaotic clerical system, where anyone could become a clergy member with minimal criteria.

Buying a church from the Church could make you a pastor, a clergy member, using God for convenience.

As Myrta said, many clergy members became focused on money, with many

 deceivers among them.

York listened, considering the meek Myrta before him.

He could imagine a scenario where the Church still had congregants, congregants who still believed in God.

Then demons suddenly emerged, revealing everything.

Hopeful congregants turned to despair, declaring God and the Church dead.

Clergy unable to exorcise demons became relics of history, while the disappointed believers found faith in a God who died just as they believed.

Most importantly...

York frowned slightly; the demonic mechanics of this world differed from those he knew.

Instead of demons, they seemed more like dark creatures called demons due to lack of a better description.

Adapting to local customs, he accepted this as demonic.

But why the mechanics differed was a long story.

After the emergence of the possessed, humanity's battle against demons officially began.

People gradually learned of different types of demons, the lengthy process of a demon's birth.

Those chosen by demons were called The Rot.

The Rot's bodies would decay, eventually birthing a demon entity.

The Rot would release a "spirit" of the demon, infecting nearby entities like a virus.

Infected beings became evil spirits, which could be humans or animals.

Evil spirits, while not turning into demons, had their brains and thoughts controlled by demons, spreading lies and violence.

In essence, evil spirits were like limbs to demons.

Understanding this, York couldn't help but tap the table; such a unique mechanism.

Myrta considered demons as evil entities born from The Rot, termed "the demon's coming."

In her words, each demonic emergence brought calamity to the world.

As a result, the world's population quickly reduced by a quarter.

York recalled his day's journey; no wonder he saw no one.

As for why three-quarters survived, of course, some could resist demons.

These individuals had a special title: Cleansers.

They were familiar with demonic tactics and possessed specialized equipment to eliminate demons and clear evil spirits.

From Myrta's words, this was an ancient profession.

The battle between Cleansers and demons had lasted millennia, unknown to the general public.

Only after God's death, the Church's death, and the first demonic emergence ten years ago did the Cleansers become known.

However, the Cleansers were on the losing side, and the population shrank to a third...

What was special was that, through prolonged battles with demons and the Cleansers' accounts, people deduced seven rules:

1. Avoid using electric lights (demons lurk in their shadows).

2. Stay away from animals (they are easily possessed).

3. Don't take anything from its surroundings (it could be infected, as the demon's spirit is virulent).

4. Do not harm them.

5. Never call them by their true names (it summons demons).

6. Don't shoot them with firearms (you'll be immediately possessed or killed).

7. Do not fear death.

These alone made York think this was more a kind of dark creature than a demon he knew.

Yet, he was curious about the Cleansers, learning from Myrta that they were merely ordinary people without supernatural powers.

"Cleansers?"

York raised his eyebrows, looking at the hesitant Myrta.

"Yes." Myrta, having steadied her emotions, looked at the man before her, somewhat uncertain.

"Actually... I'm also a demon cleanser."

She added, "Now, cleansers are like police, a special public service. Suspected cases of The Rot or evil spirits are reported, and official cleansers are dispatched to clear these 'stains'.

I don't like being controlled or taking orders, so I choose to live alone here."

Hearing this, York marveled, "This world is truly unique, even its monsters are quite special."

But the next moment, York stared at Myrta, causing her to feel a sudden panic.

Unbeknownst to her, York was listening to the mechanical voice suddenly ringing in his ear.

[...]

[Conditions met: Trigger random mission, this world is seeking salvation]

[Mission Requirement: Save, help people find their faith, or become their faith]

[Mission Reward: +100 attribute points, seal spatial rifts, and return]

[Accept/Decline]

[...]

Thanks to the generous patron, Ghost Man, for the reward!

Thank you for your support!

___________________

(Support with power stones, comments or reviews)

If you guys enjoy this story, In support me on Patreon and get access to +200 advance Chapters

Read Ahead

Patreon.com/INNIT


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