"It's a novel experience."
While Mirta and the elderly woman were talking, unbeknownst to them, an invisible figure was moving above them, experiencing the sensation of divine descent.
"It feels almost tangible, indescribable," York murmured, his eyes slightly narrowed. His thinking remained clear, unaffected.
It was as if a computer were running two processes at once, both controlled by a single mind.
"If that's the case, let's try using my hand."
Above the old woman's house, York focused his gaze, seemingly able to see through the walls and fix on a man inside the house.
"Wesley..."
At that moment, Wesley, the man in question, showed signs of swelling that had spread up to his chest.
Though his face still appeared normal, his body had already become a host for a demon.
"Let's start with you."
As Wesley seemed to sense his presence and looked up towards where York was, York extended his hand towards the house.
Simultaneously, the two hundred points of holy power stored in the Pluto Church began to deplete rapidly.
In an instant, one hundred fifty points were consumed.
"It doesn't seem too difficult," York muttered to himself, feeling content.
From his hand, a flawless radiance of holy light burst forth, expanding instantly to encompass the house below.
"Purify."
With that command, the robust holy power surged downwards amidst Wesley's screams.
The demonic seed within him tried to break free from its host, manifesting as a transparent shape in the air that opened a vast maw towards the sky.
But the power disparity was too great.
Lacking the actual presence of a demon, the nascent form was effortlessly cleansed by the relentless holy power.
The demonic seed within Wesley turned to ash, disappearing completely...
Outside the house, Mirta looked upwards, feeling a presence; she thought she had heard Father York's voice.
Then, her eyes widened—having been baptized, she could sense the recent disturbance.
Ripples emanated from the house, spreading in all directions.
"Father has made his move."
Mirta realized internally that one could only appreciate the strength of Father's power when using similar forces oneself.
Just then, before she could reflect further, Father York's voice resounded in her mind.
"It's done, Mirta. Go inside and check, also call a doctor. The young man is lucky; with treatment, he can still survive."
Hearing this voice in her mind, Mirta bowed slightly. Under the watchful eyes of Sandra, the elderly woman, she reverently responded to the void:
"Yes, Father."
"What happened? Sister Mirta," Sandra asked, her heart fluttering uncontrollably.
"Sigh."
Mirta exhaled lightly, a wave of relief washing over her.
"Mrs. Sandra, Father York has just purified this place."
"And...?" the old woman asked anxiously.
"Your son is fine," Mirta smiled reassuringly, "but there's something we need to do."
With that, Mirta pulled out her phone in front of the elderly woman and called the town's doctor. Then, she led her into the house.
Inside, remnants of holy power still lingered, and Wesley, though immobilized and swollen on the bed, looked up with clear eyes and called out.
"Mom."
...
"This feels pretty good, like playing with a toy," York commented as he retracted the divine descent effect around Mirta.
"It just costs a bit of holy power."
Hearing the prompt and feeling a slight drain in his power, York was unconcerned.
He could recover one point per minute, allowing him to use divine descent over two hundred times consecutively. If he managed the duration wisely, it was practically limitless.
Just then, the point of holy power he had spent was replenished after a minute.
"What's next..."
York tuned in to another prayer from the faithful, pulling open the metaphorical drawer before him to precisely locate this prayer.
It seemed some followers couldn't wait until evening and had already started using the holy water.
Using another point of his holy power, York transported himself to the location of a believer.
A villa with a front yard, more luxurious than Sandra's home, appeared before him.
However, after a quick scan, York detected no demonic presence.
Nevertheless, he expended the church's accumulated holy power for preventive measures, returning the believer's faith energy.
Then, he returned.
York sat back, controlling everything in the town from his position on the bench, several kilometers away.
Every time he heard a prayer in his mind, he would pull out the corresponding drawer and go there.
Back and forth, he swept through countless homes.
For a while, the church's stored faith energy was gradually consumed, continuously transformed into holy power under York's control for his use.
Thus, York effortlessly used only the faith energy absorbed by the Pluto Church from its followers.
Each experience made him
more adept at using this god-like power, which required little effort on his part.
"It feels like I've walked through the entire town..." York shook his head as he ended another session of divine descent.
Because of this, he easily generated a detailed map of the town in his mind, marking every building and area.
Terrifyingly, he knew who lived in each house.
This meant he had the entire town's details in his brain.
As evening approached.
When Mirta returned to report, it was starting to get dark.
"Father, Wesley's condition has stabilized," Mirta said with utmost respect.
"That's good."
York nodded, then walked out of the church with her to the front yard.
Followers camping outside greeted them as they emerged.
"Father York!"
"Sister Mirta!"
...
"What are you looking at, Father?" Mirta asked, standing a step behind York and following his gaze into the void.
All she could see was the sky, colored dark red by the setting sun, leaving her puzzled.
As the campers began to light a fire for illumination, night fell completely.
Without waiting for York's reply, Mirta sneaked a peek at his face and saw that he seemed very happy.
"Yes, I sense it too."
"Should we...?"
Deep in the town, in a villa that was not supposed to use electric lighting (as demons lurk in shadows), candles filled the space with light, casting a dim glow over the large house.
Having sprinkled holy water and prayed to God, Joachim turned to his wife Mary and blurted out.
"Turn on the lights?"
Mary, sensing her husband's nervousness, stepped forward and took his hand gently.
"If something happens, I can die with you, but if nothing happens, it means Father York truly is a savior and the world is ready to change."
Her expression softened, her voice resolute.
"Then we can have a child."
Joachim's tension eased. The world was cruel, and they had decided against having children to spare them from this world.
But Father York's arrival had given them a glimmer of hope.
"That's right, death is death. Living in constant fear isn't really living."
Joachim laughed self-deprecatingly, squeezing Mary's hand back.
"If nothing changes, we'll still die eventually, and the apocalypse will still come. Better to choose our time to die awake and aware, rather than under demonic control!"
Joachim and Mary exchanged a look and smiled at each other, prepared for a long time; they had even contemplated suicide before Father York's sudden arrival halted their plans.
Then, Joachim boldly reached for the light switch they hadn't touched in years.
With a click, the living room light flickered before brightly illuminating everything, their faces prepared to face whatever came.
This light, like a lone seedling in the darkness.
In York's eyes, he pointed to a small but steadfast light on the horizon and smiled.
"Mirta, look, there's light."
"Eh?" Mirta quickly refocused and followed where Father pointed, her pupils dilating in hesitation.
"Father, did someone turn on the lights?"
"Yes!" York confirmed, reassuring Mirta.
"Don't worry, the darkness lurking in Amaral Town has been driven out by me."
Remembering everything he had done following his divine descent, he had not only dispelled darkness but also laid down a holy protective array that acted as radar and shield.
If demons could still infiltrate under his watch, he might as well be dead.
As far as he could sense, the situation had not deviated from his expectations.
To complete the mission, the first step was to dispel the townspeople's fear of demons, letting them know that change stemmed from him, and that only through faith in him could they alter their fate.
This would solidify their faith, making it even more devout...
Just this little strategy was not something he would share with Mirta.
Far away in town.
The villa's lights were extraordinarily bright, brighter than ever before.
Neighbors called out.
"Hey! Joachim!"
Joachim, feeling content, opened the door halfway and looked at his neighbors.
"What's up, Kenneth!"
He knew why his neighbor had called him.
"You turned on the lights!"
Kenneth stared at the brightly lit villa, incredulous.
"Are you crazy!?"
"I'm not crazy." Joachim shrugged, looked around casually, and said with ease:
"Kenneth, look over there. It's not just me who can't stand it,
many people want to take the chance."
Kenneth looked where Joachim was pointing.
Unknowingly, he saw lights bright as daylight.
One by one, houses lit up—lights that had not been on for years due to the presence of demons.
These lights connected across the sky, creating a mesmerizing display.
This was what electric lighting should look like. Lost in thought,
Kenneth felt as if the whole town of Amaral had come to life.
Unexplainably, Kenneth felt a deep stirring in his soul.
"This..."
Kenneth opened his mouth, unsure what to say.
Only a voice behind him spoke.
"Kenneth, I want to believe in what Father York said. I'm tired of hiding all the time..."
With a click, Kenneth's wife and children watched Joachim close the door and disappear. They couldn't help but ask Kenneth.
"What should we do, Kenneth?"
"Let's go! We're going home to turn on the lights too!"
Kenneth clenched his teeth and made a decision, leading his family back home.
He was ready to risk it all.
...
"Haha!"
At the brightly lit police station.
Chief Lak and his colleague Ryan, along with others, each holding a bottle of wine, leaned against a police car, pointing at Amaral Town now free of darkness, and laughed heartily.
Chief Lak laughed until his eyes teared up.
"Damn, it's been years since I've seen such a scene. I thought I'd almost forgotten."
Ryan grinned: "Chief, are you crying?"
"Crying?"
Chief Lak glared at Ryan and retorted: "I'm not crying a damn tear."
But as he spoke, he could no longer control his tears.
The illumination of one light led to a chain reaction; a second, a third, and then many more lit up, creating a vista of lights in every home.
"So Amaral Town is actually quite beautiful."
York watched the glowing scene in the distance, hands behind his back, smiling.
However, no one responded to him; Mirta and the camping followers were mesmerized by the lit-up Amaral Town, completely entranced.
York shook his head and quietly moved back to the church, leaving them to their spectacle.
But what York didn't know was that not only Mirta and the others were captivated by the scene.
The Purifiers were also on their way from the city.
"This is..."
The white-haired Marcos stared at the illuminated horizon, stunned.
Then, a realization dawned on him, and a look of joy spread across his face.
"Marcos, that seems to be the direction of Amaral Town," a middle-aged man in the backseat said uncertainly.
"That's Amaral Town! Something we don't know must have happened. Hurry! We need to reach Mirta before dawn."
Since the lights were still on, it meant the area was clean of any demonic presence.
The rule not to use electric lighting (as demons lurk in shadows) was now void.
It also indicated that the priest they had discussed, one of the saints, had brought about these changes.
"Understood."
The driver, a Purifier, nodded, a smile spreading across his face as he drove towards the lights.
One by one, over thirty specially modified cars sped nonstop toward Amaral Town.
The entire force of Purifiers from Belst City was mobilized, heading out en masse...
___________________
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After years of absence, the sight of thousands of homes lit up in celebration is an unforgettable memory for the small town of Amara.
However, for York, it hardly matters.
He lies in bed in the side building's bedroom, watching everything outside with the detachment of a bystander.
"Four days in total..." York calculates the time spent in this otherworld as he gazes at the ceiling, hands behind his head, before closing his eyes.
Despite the fireworks filling the sky outside, to him, it seems irrelevant.
Though he's the one behind these events, York feels he's merely doing what needs to be done.
"York..."
Mirta's voice, filled with gratitude, rings out. She turns around, not seeing the priest, only to see the side building plunge into darkness, her voice fading away until it disappears.
"Father..."
Unable to see the priest, Mirta's expression shifts from gratitude to a relaxed and carefree demeanor.
"It seems I'm beginning to understand the Father's style."
Mirta smiles and turns back.
The campers in front of her have already started cheering joyously.
She walks slowly towards them, blending into the festivities as Mirta, a resident of the original town.
The light from the fire illuminates everyone's faces.
Each person has a clear understanding of the distant light.
The world is changing.
When people can disregard one of the seven fundamental principles of life, it signifies that demons are no longer the source of their fear.
It's unclear how long the excitement lasts before a vibration at her waist wakes Mirta.
She sees the still cheerful campers, exhales deeply, and then picks up the vibrating phone to move to a quieter corner.
"Hello?"
Mirta answers the phone.
But the next second, the caller's words excite her again.
"Mirta, hello, I'm Marcos."
The caller, Marcos, watches the police station and the town of Amara, now engulfed in festive atmosphere, with a determined look.
Beside him, Chief Rake, accompanied by Ryan and others, warmly welcomes the arrival of the sanitation workers.
"Come, come, have some water!"
Chief Rake instructs Ryan and others to offer water to the group of sanitation workers who have traveled from afar, laughing.
Truth be told, he understands why these city sanitation workers have arrived overnight.
They, like Mirta, are here to join the church led by Father York.
He's pleased with this development.
Chief Rake believes that these hardworking sanitation workers, under Father York's guidance, will surely be able to counterattack those damned demons.
"Mr. Marcos."
Without much thought, Mirta understands the significance of this call.
"What's your decision?"
What she didn't expect is that this group of sanitation workers has already arrived, and so swiftly.
They're even right before her.
"We're already here," Marcos says, looking at the brightly lit town of Amara.
"We're in Amara."
Mirta clenches her phone, her free left hand swinging fiercely, sincerely saying,
"It's great that you could come, Mr. Marcos."
Hearing this, Marcos, feeling the mood around him, also smiles.
"The arrival of the holy ones signifies our mission has changed from this moment on..."
What they discussed remains unknown.
The next day.
Early in the morning.
York opens his eyes on time, immune to the common issues of sleepiness or oily skin.
He remains unchanged from how he has always been.
Yet, York still follows his usual routine, taking a bath and arriving punctually for breakfast.
Without looking, breakfast is already prepared on the table.
York sits down, casually picking up a sandwich to bite into while observing the outside through a holographic display.
In the display, the number of followers outside continues to grow, crowding every view.
Previously, only a large portion came, but now it seems the entire town and possibly more outsiders have arrived.
The events of the last night have started to ferment.
York, with a god-like perspective, continues to scan the area.
He notices the situation inside the church, where Mirta, in a black nun's outfit, is talking to someone with a determined expression, wearing simple clothes yet exuding a more potent aura than Mirta.
"This person... I don't think I've seen him before."
York squints his eyes, habitually following the man's trail.
He spots some strangers.
These individuals seem to naturally possess an aura distinct from ordinary people, easily marking them as a team.
York chuckles lightly, thinking.
"It looks like it's time to put the new church on the agenda."
The establishment of a new church means the dispersal of the congregation.
And a new priest could take over his duties.
This way, he could be even more idle.
If possible, he wouldn't even want to leave this town.
York continues eating while observing this group, suspected to be sanitation workers, planning
his next steps.
Only after finishing does he stand up to clear the tableware and don his bishop's robe before heading to the back door.
"Mirta, what kind of person is Father York, really?"
Marcos stands beside Mirta, his breathing growing heavier as time passes.
As the moment approaches, this seasoned sanitation worker, who has battled corruption and demons for years, inexplicably becomes nervous.
Marcos extends his left hand to steady his trembling right hand.
Having witnessed Mirta's power since last night, he can hardly imagine what kind of person could grant Mirta such power.
It's the legendary holy power, identical to the energy in the crystals within their equipment.
Having visited the holy lands before, he understands even more.
In his plans, the ancient church's remaining holy lands are humanity's final bastion.
The reason is that the holy lands possess the same power that Mirta displayed last night.
Unfortunately, only two pieces of holy land remain in the entire world.
"If we could possess this power, we could surely recreate a new homeland..."
With this thought, Marcos clenches his teeth, squeezes his palm, and feels the tension ebbing away.
Mirta seems to sense Marcos and his colleagues' anxiety, turning back with a quiet laugh.
"Mr. Marcos, Father York is quite approachable, and he's been waiting for you all."
"That's reassuring."
Marcos feels relieved and is about to say more when suddenly, a commotion arises among the crowd.
"Father York is here!"
"Father York is here!"
"..."
Marcos abruptly turns toward the right side alley.
There, a figure has appeared, seemingly out of nowhere.
Tall and imposing, he exudes an irresistible charm.
Marcos watches wide-eyed...
In his view, the priest confidently strides into the hall, each step steady and powerful, every movement radiating a divine presence that commands respect involuntarily.
In that moment, Marcos feels his restless heart suddenly calm down.
Marcos watches the legendary priest ascend the platform, stopping to softly say,
"Thank you all for coming to today's ceremony, may the Lord be with you."
The bustling church quiets down in this instant.
Only inside Marcos does a storm surge as he stares at the priest on the platform, looking at the robe, murmuring in stunned disbelief.
"Identical, just identical..."
Marcos recalls a picture, a robe in that image identical to the one the priest wears.
He stares at the priest, remembering the associated description.
"The highest clerical rank in the church, the bishop's robe."
The weather finally collapses, leading to a hospital stay.
Owing one chapter, to be compensated later.
___________________
(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
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