Luke watched the scene unfold like a late-night inforcial and felt the corner of his mouth twitch.
This was a real priest?
He almost walked out, but a quick scan of the crowd stopped him. The believers' faces burned with genuine fanaticism. No plants here.
What if the guy actually had sothing?
He had ti to kill anyway. Might as well sit back and enjoy the show.
Father Kenneth's fiery sermon finally wrapped up.
The congregation drifted out looking cleansed and content, like they'd just been scrubbed clean of every sin.
Plenty of them stopped at the donation box on the way out, stuffing thick wads of cash inside with religious fervor.
Once the last stragglers were gone, Luke rose from his corner seat and walked over.
"Sothing on your mind, my child?"
Father Kenneth turned to the stranger who hadn't left with the herd, his face instantly shifting into a warm, practiced smile.
Luke didn't waste ti. "Father, you got any real exorcism tools around here?"
Kenneth's eyes lit up.
He gave Luke the quick once-over—casual clothes, tall build, clearly money in the bank.
Perfect mark.
"You've co to the right place, son."
The salesman grin vanished. In its place ca the compassionate shepherd look.
He rested a gentle hand on Luke's shoulder and dropped his voice.
"Evil hides in every heart. Co with —we offer a Vatican-certified exorcism ritual."
Exorcism ritual?
Luke rembered Clarice's warning about those marathon sessions that dragged on for months.
He shook his head. "Too slow. Anything faster?"
Kenneth paused, then smiled like he'd expected the question all along. He flicked his eyes at the assistant.
The young man nodded and disappeared backstage, returning with a velvet cushion.
Centered on it sat a crystal-clear bottle, mouth tied with a golden ribbon and a fancy little bow.
"Look!"
Kenneth pointed at the bottle, voice booming with theatrical passion.
"This is holy water I personally blessed on a full moon night after seventy-two straight hours of prayer! Every drop carries enough divine power to burn away the deepest darkness!"
Luke stared at him, deadpan. The pitch was identical to the miracle-supplent ads he'd seen on TV in his old life.
"Mind if I check it out?"
"Of course. Feel the Lord's strength."
Kenneth handed it over with total confidence.
The second Luke's fingers brushed the glass, a panel flashed in front of his eyes.
[Detected: Blessed Holy Water]
[Specialty: Holy Water Activated]
[Holy Water LV1 (0/1000): Psionic Bonus 0.1]
[Holy Water: Recite the Bible over clean water to create holy water that deals severe damage to unclean entities. (Damage scales with Psionic)]
[Psionic: 1.3 → 1.4 (Holy Water 0.1)]
Luke blinked at the bottle in his hand.
This was the real thing?
The con artist in the flashy white suit actually had so juice.
Still, he could feel the psionic charge inside was paper-thin—barely there.
Useless. Drinking it would probably feel like regular bottled water.
The guy was selling one part real holy water mixed with ninety-nine parts tap.
But hey—it had unlocked a new specialty. Luke decided to play along.
"How much?"
Kenneth's smile went supernova.
"My child, the Lord's grace is priceless. But this bottle cost blood, sweat, and soul. We only ask a small donation to keep the church running—999 dollars."
He saw Luke's face and quickly sweetened the deal.
"For a man of your faith, I'll knock it down to 899!"
"Forget it."
Luke set the bottle back on the cushion and walked out without another word.
Total scam.
Outside on the sidewalk, Luke stood there shaking his head, caught between laughing and groaning.
He'd co looking for tools to fight ghosts and demons and sohow walked out with a brand-new skill—straight from a televangelist.
He flagged a cab to head over to the FBI hideout and check on Clarice.
Door already open, he froze.
That place was a secret intel base. Rolling up in a random taxi was asking to get the location burned.
Luke smacked his own forehead.
Across the street sat a Ford dealership. He had a fresh three-hundred-thousand-dollar bonus sitting in the bank and a valid license.
Why the hell was he still taking cabs?
Ten minutes later he was behind the wheel of a brand-new pickup, engine purring like a satisfied cat.
Had to experience Arican truck culture at least once.
New skill. New ride. The frustration from the dead-end leads lted away.
He pulled into traffic, mind already drifting.
A thought hit him.
He glanced at the mineral water bottle he'd bought earlier, sitting on the passenger seat.
Might as well test it.
One hand on the wheel, he grabbed the bottle, twisted the cap off, and started reciting the Bible verses he knew by heart.
A faint thread of psionic energy slid down his arm and into the water.
No flash, no glow. Just quiet.
[Holy Water Successfully Created]
[XP 3]
[Specialty: Holy Water LV1 (3/1000)]
Done.
Luke looked at the ordinary-looking bottle and felt a small rush.
Wonder how much Father Kenneth would pay for this one.
He capped it and tossed it back on the seat.
The FBI hideout was a whole different story this ti—multiple checkpoints, full ID verification, the works.
A young agent finally waved him through and led him to an office.
Clarice sat at a desk buried under paperwork, spinning a pen between her fingers, dark circles under her eyes.
She looked up at the sound of the door.
When she saw Luke, her tired face brightened.
"What are you doing here? You okay?"
"Doctor said I'm healthy enough to punch out a bull. Forget that—I brought you water."
Luke dropped into the chair across from her and set the homade holy water on the desk.
Clarice blinked, then gave him a weary smile.
"Thanks."
She unscrewed the cap and took a long pull.
A wave of clean relief washed through her.
The exhaustion and tension from days of FBI grilling eased up like soone had turned down the volu.
"This water… tastes really good."
She shook the bottle, surprised.
"Does it? Probably just in your head."
Luke kept his face neutral and changed the subject.
"How's it going on your end? They giving you any grief?"
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