After a brief and heavy silence—
Silas lunged forward first, tackling Carlby to the ground.
Zal and Bente imdiately followed, pinning the old man down with grim determination.
Carlby, who had only just escaped the demon's grasp, found himself eating a mouthful of dirt.
Every exorcist-in-training knew their duty: to subdue and interrogate heretics, especially one who had just attempted a sacrificial ritual.
"Apostate! Which demon do you serve!?"
"Tell us about the 'offering ritual'—now!"
"By church law, I'll see you chained and dragged before the Tribunal!"
Their overlapping voices rose in righteous fury.
Gideon sighed, pressing a hand to his temple.
"Hey, would you three mind calming down a little?
You're shouting so loud the poor man can't even talk."
After his gentle rebuke, the three reluctantly stepped back, though they kept wary eyes on Carlby.
The old man coughed and spat out dirt, wincing as he tried to sit up.
"Cough… cough… thank you," he rasped, voice hoarse.
He rubbed at his aching jaw, his whole body trembling.
But after that rough "treatnt," his panic had at least subsided.
Gideon placed several blessed relics in a loose circle around him, forming a low-tier containnt field.
"Mr. Price," he said evenly,
"you should understand by now — we're the only ones who can help you."
Carlby gave a low, hollow chuckle.
"Help…? Hah."
He glanced around, eyes flicking over the relics. He knew escape was impossible.
Then, with a bitter smile, he muttered,
"After hearing my confession, you'll lose all hope anyway.
But perhaps it's ti soone heard it."
His tone softened. His gaze turned inward, as though peering back through years of ruin.
"I wasn't always like this," he began quietly.
"I used to be a real estate investor.
After the war, everyone dread of owning a ho.
The banks were generous — they offered loans even to the poor.
It was a golden age for people like ."
He gave a weak, broken laugh.
"I made a fortune.
Every morning, I woke up richer than the day before.
And then… one day, I got a call from a bank salesman."
Carlby's hands clenched tightly.
"He offered sothing called 'mortgage-backed securities.'
He said they'd never fail — that they were the future.
The profits sounded unreal… but they were real enough to blind ."
He drew a shaky breath.
"I took out a massive loan.
I wanted to win big — to gamble my entire life on one roll of the dice."
At that, he covered his face with both hands, his voice thick with regret.
"Those bankers were liars.
Those 'bonds' were worthless.
I lost everything.
I couldn't repay the debt…
and when they ca to collect, they threatened my wife and daughter."
He trembled, knuckles whitening.
"One night, I heard a story…
a legend that if you signed a pact with a demon,
your deepest wish would co true."
He laughed weakly, the sound twisted with self-loathing.
"I was desperate.
And then… I found him."
Gideon's expression darkened.
"The demon offered a contract," Carlby whispered.
"In exchange for a single soul,
I would be given wealth beyond asure."
His fingers dug into the dirt, tears mixing with the dust.
"For one mont… I thought of my wife. My daughter.
Their faces flashed before my eyes."
He paused. His shoulders quivered.
"But in the end…"
Carlby's voice broke into a ragged whisper.
"I couldn't do it.
I couldn't sacrifice them.
So I signed my own na on the contract."
The words fell into the night like stones into water—
and the silence that followed was suffocating.
After signing that contract, Carlby Price truly did receive what seed like a miracle —
a promotion that should have been impossible.
His inco rose sharply overnight.
But it was still far from the "imnse fortune" he had been promised.
He thought the opportunities would keep coming —
that wealth would pour in endlessly.
But as months passed, his salary remained rely good.
Respectable, yes, but nowhere near the paradise he'd been led to believe in.
"This isn't wealth," he had raged. "This is just… work!"
It wasn't the luxury he'd been promised — only a better-paying job.
Then, fate struck another blow.
A dical test revealed the truth — a terminal illness.
The day he saw the diagnosis, Carlby's world shattered.
He beca convinced the demon had deceived him.
He tried desperately to summon it again — to demand an answer.
But the void remained silent.
And so, in his despair, he made a choice.
He went ho, ignored his wife's pleas, and filed for divorce.
Then he t with an old business contact, moved his remaining funds through hidden accounts,
and vanished from his family's life.
To everyone else, he beca a monster —
a greedy, selfish man who abandoned his wife and daughter to avoid his debts.
But only his wife knew the truth.
He had secretly transferred everything to their daughter's na.
It was Carlby's act of vengeance —
if the demon would not honor the deal, then he would not honor his.
He would save what he could for his family,
and when the ti ca, he would refuse treatnt,
letting his illness finish him quietly.
But things did not end that simply.
"That thing… it— it…"
Carlby's voice trembled. His eyes glistened with tears.
"It took Laurena's remaining years… and gave them to ."
The words broke him. His body shook with grief.
Even as he tried to cheat it, the demon had cheated him back.
Carlby's illness miraculously stabilized —
but his wife's life burned away in his place.
When she died, a ssage appeared, scrawled in blood across the wall:
"If you fail to complete the offering, your daughter will follow her."
From that mont, the last shreds of his sanity crumbled.
Because demons never grant — they trade.
And when he begged for release,
it offered him another contract.
"Fulfill the sacrificial ritual," the demon told him,
"and I will forfeit both your soul and your daughter's."
So Carlby obeyed.
Following the demon's instructions,
he sold the farmland to its chosen vessel.
But he had overestimated the demon's nature.
No—
he had made the mistake of believing a demon could possess morality at all.
He had been deceived once more.
The contract never said "one ritual."
The text was deliberately vague — eternal.
Unless the demon manifested fully in the mortal world,
the sacrificial rites would never end.
Each "offering" only fed its slow descent.
Worse still —
before the contract, the demon had told Carlby to bring it a cup of soil
from the entrance of the town.
He thought it was a re ritual prop.
He didn't realize that every soul in town had stepped across that sa soil.
When Carlby — a human — handed it to the demon,
he unknowingly bound the life of every townsfolk to himself.
And in doing so,
he gave the demon dominion over their lifespans.
From that day onward, Carlby beca its slave.
To protect his daughter… and the rest of the town,
he perford the sacrifices again and again,
feeding the demon innocent souls in exchange for a fragile peace.
"Demons never give," Carlby whispered hoarsely,
"they only bargain."
He lifted his tear-streaked face, eyes hollow but clear.
"But there's one more truth I've learned."
His voice cracked, trembling as he looked at the priests around him.
"Never—
never make a deal with a demon."
The room fell into a suffocating silence.
Even the night wind seed to pause outside.
For a long mont, no one spoke.
Even the students — usually so full of conviction — looked shaken.
Finally, Gideon exhaled slowly,
a touch of dark humor slipping into his tone.
"So even demons understand sothing humans can't—
if you owe a debt, you should pay it off through hard work,
not by praying for a shortcut."
He tapped his chin thoughtfully.
"You ntioned that the ritual requires… 'a chosen family,' didn't you?"
Carlby nodded weakly.
"Yes. It must be a complete household.
Before each ritual begins, the family is always given a chance to escape."
Gideon's brows lifted.
"That overpaid farmland contract?"
"Exactly," Carlby said, his voice trembling.
"I never understood why the Lord would let it happen that way…"
He took a deep, weary breath.
"Each ti, I hoped they'd accept the offer — that they'd run.
But pride, hope, or foolish faith always kept them in place.
Mr. Roy Solomon was no different."
Silence lingered again as everyone absorbed his words.
Then Carlby stood, shoulders shaking.
"Now you understand.
The ritual has already begun.
The Solomons are dood.
I must see it through."
The three academy students imdiately moved to block his way.
"Mr. Price, you know as well as we do," Silas said gravely,
"you can't even breach the barrier around the farmland on your own."
Gideon rubbed his chin, eyes narrowing slightly.
"You said you have no choice… but think carefully, Carlby."
The old man hesitated, eyes flickering with conflict.
He knew the truth. But he needed to show his "faith."
If the Lord was to pity him, he needed to prove his sincerity.
Gideon's gaze hardened.
"You said everyone in town is connected to you, didn't you?"
Carlby froze.
Gideon took a step closer, his tone quiet but razor-sharp.
"Then tell , Carlby—
when your blood finally runs dry…"
He leaned forward, eyes glinting in the dim light.
"Who do you think the demon will co for next?"
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