Chapter 139 — The Deal with the Demon
Moments earlier—
While the Solomons were carrying out his plan,
Gideon had been busy preparing his own.
Layer by layer, he completed his protective setup.
With the relics he'd buried the night before,
he finally carved out a sanctified zone—
a fragment of holy ground in the middle of cursed soil.
Ever since learning about the "Sacrificial Ritual,"
he knew that a direct confrontation with the demon was inevitable.
And after witnessing how "Ben" behaved under possession,
a plan had already begun forming in his mind.
He stepped forward, his expression unreadable.
"You want this, don't you?" Gideon said quietly, holding up a bottle of holy water.
The thing inside Ben sneered, eyes glowing like molten amber.
"Foolish human… do you even understand what you're saying? You're nothing but a—"
It stopped mid-sentence.
The demon had tried to peer into Gideon's past—
but saw only mist.
No timeline. No memories.
Only darkness and light bleeding into one another.
Realizing its mistake, it quickly changed targets.
"You!" it hissed, its gaze snapping to Bente.
"You've always thought you were gifted, but deep down you know you're a failure!
No matter how hard you work, you'll never surpass the man standing beside you!"
Bente froze, eyes wide.
The words struck like a hammer to the chest.
Wait—why's it exposing my insecurities out loud?!
But the demon wasn't finished. It turned to Roy.
"And you, ignorant farmer!
You let your pride destroy you!
You refused a higher offer for your land out of vanity—
and your wife doesn't even know the truth!"
Then it fixed on Denise.
"Oh, the loving mother!
You pretend to care for your daughter,
but deep down, you despise the child who ruined your life!"
And finally, its gaze landed on Jess.
"Naïve little girl… you think your kindness means anything here?"
Each word hit like a lash of fire.
Everyone except Gideon had gone pale, frozen by a mix of anger and shame.
Their eyes turned to him—pleading, desperate.
Please… just end this.
But Gideon didn't move.
"And you—"
The demon's voice faltered again.
Ben's small body shuddered violently, and his mouth twisted open.
Then—
Clang!
A metallic clatter echoed through the room as iron nails spilled from his throat,
bouncing across the floor.
The demon's expression twisted in shock.
"Impossible! That was only five-year holy water!"
Bente's eyes widened in realization.
"Father Gideon! Now's our chance!"
Everyone turned to him—
but Gideon didn't reach for a relic or prayer scroll.
Expression calm, he simply pulled out a bottle of holy water,
uncorked it—
and drank the entire thing.
The others stared, dumbfounded.
Even the demon froze mid-breath.
Gideon wiped his lips, unfazed.
"I was just a little thirsty," he said casually.
"Go on. Don't let me interrupt your performance."
The air went still.
The temperature dropped.
Even the demon hesitated.
Then it spoke again, its tone oddly subdued.
"You realize, human… that such arrogance earns a demon's hatred."
Gideon met its gaze, utterly calm.
"I usually don't give them the chance."
The words were soft—but sharp enough to cut through the tension.
The demon—Ben's body—trembled, and then snarled.
"F—K!"
"Language!"
Denise blurted it out instinctively.
Then realized how ridiculous it sounded and quickly covered her mouth.
Ben—or rather, the demon—rolled its eyes.
"Hey, tall guy! Yeah, you—give me what's in your pocket."
John Burwell, the farm's previous owner, blinked in confusion.
He fumbled around and pulled out a crumpled pack of cigarettes.
The demon snapped its fingers.
The pack floated through the air, landing neatly in Ben's palm.
"Don't smoke, Ben," Denise said automatically, her voice trembling.
"You're still too young for that."
Everyone stared at her.
Even the demon paused mid-drag, giving her a look that was almost… offended.
"Lady, I'm a demon," it said flatly.
"We're born shameless."
It exhaled, and for a brief moment, the cigarette smoke took shape—
forming a black sigil in the air, one that shimmered with infernal energy.
Gideon's eyes glinted as he watched it spiral.
He could already tell.
"So that's your offer," he murmured under his breath.
"A trade, then."
The boy—no, the thing inside him—tapped the cigarette pack with practiced ease.
A single stick popped out.
He bent down and caught it deftly between his lips.
Tch.
Fssss—haah…
A stream of white smoke curled lazily toward the ceiling.
The demon flicked the pack, only then realizing—
Ben's body had no pockets.
It froze.
Then came a low mutter of curses under its breath:
something about "bad luck," "wrong vessel," and "hell being boring as ever."
With a sulky sigh, it tossed the pack back to John Burwell—the previous farm owner—
then pointed the burning cigarette at Judy and Jess.
"Anyway—kids shouldn't smoke."
The room went silent.
Every pair of eyes turned to the demon with an expression somewhere between disbelief and horror.
Gideon pinched the bridge of his nose.
You're scolding them about smoking only because you couldn't steal the pack?
That's not moral restraint, that's petty logic!
"Hey! You!"
The demon jabbed a finger toward him.
"What the hell's wrong with you?"
Gideon's eyes narrowed slightly, amused.
"You're a priest," the demon snarled, pacing as it spoke.
"Your job is to banish demons and save foolish mortals—not sit around pretending to think!"
It waved its hands dramatically, the cigarette bouncing between its lips.
"You walk in, grab the holy water, shove it down the possessed one's throat,
chant your cheap Latin, and boom—problem solved!
But you? You set up twenty escape routes, you don't even come inside—
what the hell are you doing?!"
It inhaled sharply, then exhaled a plume of smoke.
"Goddamn Church…
I miss the fourteenth century.
Back then, everyone was ignorant and easy to scare."
The entire room just… froze.
Even the academy trio looked completely stunned.
A demon… complaining that a priest won't exorcise it?
It was the kind of scene no theology textbook had ever prepared them for.
In fact, in the entire history of the Church, this might've been a first.
Their awe toward Father Gideon deepened further—
not because he fought demons,
but because demons argued with him.
Gideon crossed his arms, his tone lazy but cutting:
"Pretty bold words coming from a demon who tried to steal a pack of cigarettes—
and failed because his host didn't have pockets.
I'm guessing the others in Hell will be laughing about this for centuries."
That hit the mark.
The demon's face twisted in fury.
"F…k God! F…k the Church! F…k—wait, what's your name?"
Gideon blinked.
"...Gideon."
"F…K, Gideon!"
The demon threw up both middle fingers with childlike intensity.
Denise gasped and instinctively stepped behind her husband.
"And what do I call you?" Gideon asked calmly.
"Ignorant mortal," it hissed, straightening.
"I am Valak!"
At once, the atmosphere changed.
The temperature dropped.
The walls creaked.
A crushing presence filled the air—dark, ancient, oppressive.
Even the candlelight bent under the pressure.
The name alone sent a ripple of terror through the room.
The Solomons clutched each other.
The academy trio froze where they stood.
Gideon, however, only raised an eyebrow.
"Valak, huh."
The demon's grin widened—pleased by their fear.
At least now, it looked like a proper demon.
But then Gideon tilted his head, his tone skeptical.
"Valak, the 62nd of Solomon's Seventy-Two Pillars of Hell?"
"The demon who grants knowledge and truth?"
"You?"
The accusation hit like a slap.
Gideon's tone wasn't reverent—it was doubtful.
And everyone knew it.
In this world—the same world where the Warrens once fought the Nun—
the name Valak wasn't just a myth.
It was a terror that lived in whispered bedtime stories.
The demon's expression curdled.
"You dare question me, human?"
Gideon shrugged.
"You don't look like the type who trades in truth."
"You'll pay for that insolence!"
With a shriek, Valak lunged forward—
but Gideon was faster.
He uncorked a bottle of ten-year holy water and flung it straight into its face.
The liquid hit with a hiss like molten metal.
Ssssss—!
Smoke rose. The air filled with the smell of burning flesh.
Valak clenched its teeth, muscles twisting in pain—
the cigarette fell to the floor.
"F…K! F…K! F…K!" it howled.
Then, to everyone's horror—
Its voice shifted—
from agony… to pleasure.
"Yes—YES! Ten-year holy water!"
"Ohhh, that's perfect! That burn! That sting!"
The room fell utterly silent.
Even Gideon blinked.
For a brief second, he wondered if he'd accidentally walked into a nightmare illusion.
Behind him, the academy trio stood rigid, their faces pale with psychic contamination.
And poor Denise—seeing her son's body move, laugh, and moan like that—
simply fainted into Roy's arms.
Her memory of her sweet little boy shattered beyond repair.
"Got any more?" Valak gasped, eyes wild and gleaming.
"Come on, Father, don't be stingy! I'll make you a deal—anything you want!"
"Men, women, horses, riches—just name it!"
Gideon's expression froze halfway between disbelief and concern.
"I'm sorry, back up—after 'women,' did you say horses?"
Valak grinned.
"Oh, don't get all holy on me. I've heard that out west,
humans have some… creative kinks."
Gideon wisely decided not to pursue that topic.
"You want holy water," he said evenly, "you'll answer a question first."
Valak sighed dramatically.
"Fine, fine. You sound just like the Church—endless sermons before the fun begins."
"Why are you here?" Gideon asked.
"What's your real purpose on Earth?"
The cigarette ember flickered once—
and Valak smiled.