Chapter 77 – Vincent's Miscalculation
A spark flared in the dark.
The glow of a matchstick illuminated the strange world around them.
Gideon held the tiny flame between his fingers, calmly surveying his surroundings.
Beneath his feet was asphalt again—the familiar road of Ambrose.
But beside him stood something absurd: a roof jutting sideways, as though a house had been built upon the wall.
Everywhere, the laws of nature had been warped.
Streetlamps hung upside down.
Trees grew sideways.
Even cars clung to vertical walls as though gravity itself had turned traitor.
Amid this impossible scenery, Gideon quickly spotted the others. They weren't far.
Drawn by the light, the group hurried to gather around him.
"What happened? Where the hell are we?" Sasha asked, clutching her silver coin tightly as she scanned the bizarre terrain.
Sadie already had her shotgun drawn, standing guard with her back to the others, eyes fixed on the shadows.
"If I'm not mistaken," Gideon said evenly, "we're inside Vincent's stomach."
The group froze.
Piecing together Vincent's last words and his final act, Gideon had formed his conclusion: Vincent had fused himself with the entire town.
Ambrose was no longer a place. It was his body.
When the ground had folded in on itself earlier, Gideon had considered using Holy Step to escape. But with the land rising so high, he wouldn't have had enough time to break free—and abandoning the others was out of the question.
Instead, he had chosen a different strategy.
In the few seconds before the collapse was complete, he carved a small array of holy wards into the earth—contingencies for whatever awaited them.
And just before the town folded shut, he caught sight of a gap in one direction—exactly where he had earlier planted another holy relic.
Now that the tremors had ceased, he double-checked the sacred charms on his person. Nothing was missing. Only then did he strike the match to bring them light.
"What do we do now?" Sadie finally broke the silence.
The others looked to Gideon instinctively.
Since the moment they'd entered Ambrose, the priest had revealed ability after ability that defied reason. Without realizing it, they had all begun to see him as their anchor.
"That way," Gideon said, nodding toward the faint memory of the gap he'd glimpsed. "There may be a way out."
Sasha's eyes lit up. "Perfect! Then let's move—"
For so long, she had yearned to fight against evil. Now, standing shoulder to shoulder with comrades against a true devil, she felt the fire of purpose burning within her.
But Gideon raised a hand. "Not yet. There are things I need to confirm."
He passed the matchbox to Wade, then pulled out a vial of holy water. Popping the cork, he tilted it and let the liquid drip onto the ground.
Hissss.
The water seeped across the warped asphalt, sliding beyond the radius of his wards.
But nothing happened.
No smoke, no convulsions, no signs of harm to the place around them.
"Interesting…" Gideon rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Perhaps Vincent didn't merge with the town itself after all."
If Ambrose truly were part of Vincent's body, the holy water should have burned it.
From the test with the holy water, Gideon quickly pieced the puzzle together.
Vincent hadn't merged with the town itself.
He had fused with something else—and through it, manipulated Ambrose into collapsing upon them.
That was why the holy water had no effect.
The town wasn't the body; it was the barrier, shielding the true core of Vincent.
Clever. Quick to adapt.
But if Vincent thought this trick would trap Gideon, he was gravely mistaken.
Gideon reached into his coat and retrieved the Amulet of the Dead.
At once, shadowy figures flickered into being nearby.
"G-Ghosts!"
Carly cried out, clutching Gideon's arm.
On the other side, Wade pressed close as well, trembling.
They had both seen undead before, but fear still clawed at their instincts.
"Relax, they're on our side," Gideon sighed, shaking his head.
Even Sasha, wide-eyed with panic, froze at the priest's words. Swallowing hard, she inched closer to one of the pale spirits.
"H-hello…?" she whispered, waving a hand.
The specter did not respond, only drifting silently past.
Sasha turned to Gideon with astonishment.
This was impossible.
Her father had once told her: when the good die, their souls go to heaven.
Only the damned linger as restless spirits—hostile to all the living.
Yet here was a priest commanding them as though they were his flock.
How? Who exactly is he…? Sasha's curiosity deepened with every passing moment.
Meanwhile, the spirits dissolved into the warped "walls" around them.
"As I thought," Gideon murmured, narrowing his eyes. "This place cannot restrain spirits."
It didn't take long before the dead whispered their findings back to him.
Vincent's body was not invulnerable.
They had located the holy wards Gideon had planted earlier.
And more than that—they had discovered something else.
"A strange…flesh orb?"
According to the spirits, there was a chamber wrapped in thick layers of living tissue. At its center lay a pulsating sphere radiating immense, malignant power.
Even the dead, creatures of shadow themselves, recoiled at it. To them, it was pure evil.
Which meant only one thing: Vincent's vital core.
Gideon's plan took shape at once.
He recalled part of the spirits to guide them toward it, while the others were left behind to guard the perimeter.
Meanwhile, Vincent had not been idle.
The corrupted body of the town churned, sending streams of corrosive liquid flowing toward their path.
Vincent knew his own weaknesses, and he meant to drown the intruders in acid the moment they sought an exit.
But there was one thing he had not accounted for.
If he had truly understood the culture of the Pacific West, he would have known: swallowing an enemy vastly stronger than yourself is one of the most foolish things one can do.
By the time Vincent realized something was wrong, it was already too late.
"How—how did they find it?!" His mind reeled.
Then the answer struck him.
"Bo's death-slaves! Damn it—weren't they bound by contract?!"
Having arrived later, Vincent hadn't seen the moment those spirits turned against him.
"This man… Who is he? A priest who can command the dead?!"
For the first time, panic cracked his composure.
Since the death of his original body, this form was all he had left. His true core.
"Wait—stop! We can talk!" Vincent's voice echoed through the fleshy walls just as Gideon raised the vial of holy water above the orb.
"What's wrong?" Gideon sneered. "Bite off more than you could chew?"
Vincent ground his teeth but forced himself to hold back his rage.
"I can release you. All of you. If you swear, in the name of your faith, never to set foot in Ambrose again—and bury what you've seen here in your hearts until the grave."
Gideon chuckled softly.
"Mr. Vincent, have you really not realized the truth?"
He gestured to the pulsating flesh orb.
"The advantage isn't yours."
Vincent seethed in silence.
Gideon's smile hardened. "Besides… who said we ever wanted to leave?"
"You…!" Vincent trembled with fury.
Once, he had been the hunter, savoring the fear of his prey.
Now, the roles had reversed.
"If I die, you'll be trapped here forever!" Vincent snapped, trying to keep his voice calm.
"My organization has already sent others. They are from Hell itself."
At that, Sasha's heart lurched.
Hell? This monster is tied to Hell?
Through her father, she had heard whispers of the truth—that Hell was real, and its agents would one day descend upon the world.
The thought terrified her. If this priest pushed Vincent too far, if forces of Hell were truly on the way, they were all as good as dead.
But when she looked at Gideon, his eyes were as calm and steady as ever.
"I've already known the way out," Gideon said coolly, cutting through Vincent's bluff.
He lowered the vial slightly, then added: "Still… if you want to live, it's not impossible."
He pointed to the spirits hovering nearby.
"Hand over them—and Simo's remains. Then we'll talk."