To William, the magical rings were insignificant. But to Strauss and the others, while they had seen holier relics, the stag-emblazoned rings were the only functional magical artifacts they had laid hands on in decades.
A sacred relic that no longer worked was just a pretty trinket.
But when they saw the stag crest on the rings, the five monks immediately understood what it meant—this was a symbol of William's acknowledgment. From this moment on, they were men with the backing of a Grand Magus of Holy Light.
Who cared how many other benefits they might get? That sense of confidence alone was priceless.
The moment they slipped the rings on, each of them felt their vitality surge. Their eyes sparkled as though they could suddenly see through veils that had always obscured their vision.
"From this moment on, your mission is simple: cleanse Rome of all remaining dark entities."
Strauss bowed respectfully with the others. "Yes, my lord."
Truth be told, they would've acted even without William's order.
Now that William and the stonewing beasts had purged much of the city, most of the surviving demons had likely fled. The ones left behind? Perfect for target practice—and perfect for proving the ascetic monks' worth to the rest of the Church.
More importantly, the presence of so many demons near the Vatican could no longer be ignored. Now that they had the ability to detect and identify them, ignoring the threat would be negligence.
Even weapons inscribed with a basic 'Faith' rune could slay most lesser demons. Even if it cost lives, they would cleanse their own house—or else lose the right to criticize others.
Seeing the burning resolve in their eyes, William knew he'd judged them correctly. These neglected ascetics were not only unafraid of hunting demons, but quietly thrilled by the prospect.
Once blood was spilled on both sides, reconciliation would no longer be possible—just the way William wanted it.
"I'll have someone purchase that estate—the one that belonged to the demon prince Bena. It'll be my personal base in Rome.
From now on, any human who makes contributions in the war against demons can report it to me. Depending on their merits, I'll reward them—with artifacts, strength… even extended life."
"L-Life extension?" Strauss's aged face lit up with fervor and determination. "Understood, my lord."
The other four, appearing only middle-aged, looked at William with shining eyes.
William nodded solemnly. "Magic is more wondrous than you can imagine. With sufficient merit… believe me, Strauss—your life is only just beginning."
"Praise you, Your Grace," Strauss whispered, nearly kneeling in gratitude.
He was over seventy—what could be more enticing than the promise of life itself?
"I'll be watching your progress, gentlemen," William said with a smile, before teleporting back to London.
As the stonewing beasts took flight, a priest named Simon approached Strauss and whispered, "Your Eminence, should we ask His Grace Devonshire to help us restore the Church's sacred relics?"
"No, Simon," Strauss said, staring into the sky, "even if the relics are restored, would they be entrusted to us?"
Simon stiffened. Was this open defiance of the old hierarchy? Or a calculated bid for control?
"Patience, Simon. This is only the beginning. If we want more, we must show His Grace our worth." Strauss narrowed his eyes. "This world still answers to power."
Simon nodded. "Understood, Your Eminence. I'll begin assembling every ascetic we have. The mundane can return to the mundane. But the extraordinary… that's ours."
"Good," Strauss said approvingly, placing a hand on Simon's shoulder. "Once we cleanse Rome, once we show the bodies of the fallen fiends, once we bring back the light—we won't need to ask for control. Everyone will offer it to us."
He raised his hand, and a sphere of Holy Light bloomed in his palm. The other four monks mirrored the gesture, conjuring small Holy Light orbs of their own.
They were laughably weak in William's eyes—but to them, these glowing spells were proof that Holy Magic was no longer just legend.
Hope ignited within the monks, bringing resolve and unity like never before.
They donned their hoods and vanished silently into the darkness.
London, 5:30 PM (New York time)
Rain fell steadily as William, holding a black umbrella, teleported into Long Island Cemetery.
Already quiet, the cemetery was nearly deserted due to the storm. Glancing at the spider-drones perched in the trees, William stood alone on a grassy slope, looking out toward the New York skyline.
After a moment, the sound of footsteps echoed behind him.
With his spiritual scan already active, William immediately identified the figure: a gaunt-faced cemetery worker in overalls and a cowboy hat, with a thick beard and sun-weathered skin.
But when William got a good look, he immediately recognized the man—his memory flashed with an image of a flaming skull, riding atop a burning undead horse.
The legendary Ghost Rider.
Not just any Ghost Rider, but the former Texas Ranger who had broken free of Mephisto's control, guarding the San Venganza Contract containing the souls of a thousand sinners.
What the Ghost Rider didn't realize was that the contract wasn't nearly as valuable to Mephisto as he believed.
By the time the Ghost Rider had stolen it, Mephisto had already used it to screw over several rivals. And if Mephisto really wanted it back, all he had to do was wait for the Rider to transform—Mephisto would sense him instantly.
"The great William Devonshire, admiring a cemetery view?" the man asked warily.
The tension and test in his voice made William chuckle. Without turning, he replied, "Relax—I'm not here for you. I've got no interest in that contract you're hiding."
The old man's face changed. His grip on the shovel in his hand tightened.
William finally turned and smiled. "That said, you should know—Mephisto's coming soon."
He sniffed theatrically and pointed at the man's shovel. "Hiding the contract in the wooden handle? Not bad. But you forgot something."
The old Ghost Rider asked urgently, "What did I miss?"
William's eyes lit with Holy Light runes, radiating a soft yet blinding sanctity.
"The sulfurous stench of demonic power still clings to you. And that contract of yours—it practically oozes darkness. Anyone attuned to the Light could spot it from a mile away."
Faced with the pure light in William's gaze, the Ghost Rider instinctively stepped back.
But just like everyone else before him—he was already being drawn in.
______
(≧◡≦) ♡ Support me and read 20 chapters ahead – patreon.com/Mutter
• Every 100 Power Stones = 1 extra chapter on Saturday.• Every 5 reviews = 1 extra chapter on Saturday.