Since they were operating in separate groups, the team mbers each chose a different path after crossing the threshold of the wooden door—the one engraved with the chilling warning: [God stops here].
Seia wandered aimlessly through the narrow tunnels, which felt ancient and slled of rot.
A small bird, her "Fatty Chick," gripped a flashlight in its talons; the beam was far more reliable than candlelight, casting a brilliant glow that fully illuminated the path ahead.
The tunnels were cramped and riddled with junctions, resembling a labyrinth designed specifically for frantic escapes or losing a pursuer.
Without a keen sense of direction, one could easily be swallowed by the darkness of these halls. The low ceilings and the constant drift of dust created an oppressive atmosphere, and the rhythmic plink, plink of water dripping from an unknown source only added to the eerie vibe.
Seeing that Seia showed no sign of fear, Valak let out a cold snort.
The more composed a girl like her remained, the more it stirred his twisted heart. He wanted nothing more than to see that holy, calm smile shatter into a mask of terror and despair.
He longed to confront her personally once more, but noticing that Irene was nearing his prepared trap, he pulled his focus back. For now, he would let his puppets give the girl a "grand surprise."
Even if he couldn't savor the spectacle firsthand, he could still experience the mory through their eyes. He was certainly curious about Seia, but Irene's body was the more important prize.
Seia could more or less guess what Valak was thinking, but she didn't mind. To her, this was simply a way to kill ti while waiting for the final mont to arrive.
The Fatty Chick chirped with sudden unease. Now that its intellect had been awakened and its body surged with divine power, its senses were sharper than those of any ordinary priest.
In truth, however, Seia didn't even need the bird's intuition. The sound of hurried, heavy, and chaotic footsteps began to echo from all directions.
This wasn't the sound of a dozen people; it was clear Valak had poured the lion's share of his forces into her side of the tunnel.
But...
Seia didn't panic. Instead, the smile on her lips beca more genuine. This actually worked in her favor.
She had expected to expend so effort hunting them down, but now that they were delivering themselves to her doorstep, she could purify the whole lot in one go.
Observing that Valak's attention was fixed elsewhere—engaged in a final struggle for Irene—Seia dropped her act.
A brilliant, golden torrent erupted from her, like a surging yet gentle tide, washing through every corner of the underground maze.
In that instant, the spirits of every faceless nun were fully restored. The sensation was one of profound comfort.
The holy, warm energy felt like an ascension of the soul. So of the nuns began to weep silently, others wailed aloud, and so wore expressions of pure relief, as if saying, "Finally, the day has co."
Whatever their reaction, they were all moved by a deep sense of piety. They knew their trial was over. After enduring untold ages of tornt and suffering, they had finally received God's salvation.
All the nuns turned toward the source of the golden light. Even in the depths of the labyrinth, they followed the flow back to its origin until, one by one, they gathered before Seia.
Looking at the halo hovering above Seia's head, even the slight confusion over her fox ears couldn't mask the truth: she was the angel sent to guide them ho.
The demon's good days were over.
"An..." ca the chorus of voices.
Valak was oblivious to what was happening in the tunnels; in fact, he was far too busy to care.
He had successfully entered Sister Irene's body, only to be distracted by Maurice's sudden intrusion.
His arrogance had caused him to dismiss the ordinary man and his weapons, even toying with him for a bit of sport. That carelessness proved costly.
He was suppressed by Father Burke's sudden Jesus Silver Cross prayer and then took a point-blank shot from the mortal.
If he hadn't already claid the body, that combo would have likely put him out of commission for a while. However, having secured the vessel allowed him to exert his true power in the physical realm.
There were still limits, of course, but compared to rely channeling power through a rift from Hell, it was the difference between night and day.
"Roar!"
An inhuman howl tore from "Irene's" throat.
Father Burke, gripping his silver cross, managed to hold his ground, but Maurice was sent flying a dozen ters by the force of the scream, the sound of his bones cracking echoing in the air.
"Damn it...!"
Pain caused sweat to pour down Maurice's face. Without a mont's hesitation, he set the Demon-Expelling Holy Fla on the ground and kicked it toward Father Burke with everything he had.
This wasn't the ti to worry about balanced combat or self-preservation; their only hope was to build up one "powerhouse" who could actually stand toe-to-toe with the demon.
Father Burke understood the stakes imdiately. Using the power of the cross to steady himself, he rolled and caught the weapon.
Under the intensity of his prayers, his divine energy surged, turning the patterns on the Holy Fla to a brilliant gold.
He fired.
The slugs—capable of shattering marble or sending lesser demons straight back to the abyss—only elicited a sneer from Valak. The rounds froze in mid-air before him.
Simultaneously, Father Burke felt an invisible, massive hand clamp around his throat, choking off his prayers.
Even the cross hanging from his neck began to twist under the pressure of the evil energy, flipping until it ford an inverted cross.
"You thought you could stand against ?" Valak's voice dripped with disdain. He had been montarily caught off guard by their earlier assault, but in his fury, these two were no match for him.
Is this the power of the seventy-two pillars of the Ars Goetia?
Father Burke struggled to breathe, and Maurice watched in disbelief. How could they possibly win?
Just as despair began to take root in their hearts, the sound of prayer rose.
It was unfamiliar, clear, and... multiplied.
The realization stunned everyone in the room, including Valak. Why were there so many voices? Had the Church sent reinforcents?
A golden light, appearing almost liquid, began to flow from beneath the sealed doors, trickling down the steps and onto the floor.
As the prayers grew louder and closer, Valak found his wicked power unable to push outward. The holy atmosphere filled the room alongside the golden liquid.
The grip on the priest's throat vanished, and Father Burke imdiately threw himself back into prayer.
Valak's face contorted into a monstrous grimace at the incomprehensibility of the situation.
Then, the doors swung open.
Was it a few? A dozen?
No—dozens of nuns stood at the threshold, their gazes solemn and their faces filled with devotion. The sheer magnitude of the divine power was so great that Sister Irene's own lips began to move, reciting an instinctive prayer in unison with them.
Valak felt a massive surge of rejection erupt from within Irene's body. He knew then that he had lost.
But... why? How could he have lost?
Why were these souls, who should have been his mindless pawns, standing here against him?
What on earth had happened?
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