Chapter 220: Exorcists from All Sides
On the way to Germantown Friends School,
Wilton sat upright in the back seat, a Bible resting in his hands. His eyes remained closed the entire time, as if the world around him had nothing to do with him.
Bettice gazed out the window at the passing scenery, occasionally turning her head to glance toward the front seats.
Gideon sat in the passenger seat, lost in thought.
The seminary had arranged a dedicated vehicle for this mission, so he didn't have to act as an impromptu driver this time.
Earlier on the road, Gideon had already learned the details of the incident from Bettice.
Combining the clues—Elm Street, and the leather bladed glove—he was almost certain of one thing:
This time, they were dealing with Freddy.
That infamous horror icon who rose to prominence in the 1980s had been the childhood nightmare of countless kids.
A grotesque appearance.
The ability to silently invade human dreams.
Death in dreams meaning death in reality.
All of it had once made Freddy wildly popular across North America.
Gideon also remembered that this creature was originally bound to Elm Street, unable to leave its territory. It was only in later installments of the series that Freddy expanded his reach into the wider world.
At the same time, within the dream world, Freddy was practically invincible.
The protagonists' countermeasures varied across the films.
In the first installment, the heroine Nancy overcame her fear and dragged Freddy into the real world, where he was ultimately destroyed through physical means.
Of course, in a long-running horror franchise, monsters rarely stay dead.
Like his hockey-mask-wearing counterpart, Freddy revived in the second film through a personal belonging.
What form this Freddy would take now… was anyone's guess.
Gideon shook his head slightly.
"Of all names," he thought, "having a school on Elm Street… those students are really unlucky."
Germantown Friends School was a top-tier private high school, ranked among the top hundred in the country. Most of its graduates went on to Ivy League universities.
In North America, ordinary families simply couldn't access such elite resources.
That alone explained the social standing of the parents involved—and why the school had managed to bring in the Vatican itself.
Under normal circumstances, a diocesan-level cleric would have been more than sufficient to handle this kind of case.
Yet this time, Wilton had flown all the way from Rome specifically for the mission.
That alone showed how seriously the Church was taking it.
And the primary reason wasn't just the incident itself—
It was the newly emerged exorcist organizations.
Ever since the Lord Knights publicly declared their intent to expose the Church's alleged atrocities, a subtle wave of anti-religious sentiment had begun spreading across North America.
People took to the streets, demanding explanations from the Church over various controversies.
In some places, radical extremists even vandalized churches.
At the same time, the number of new converts joining the Church continued to decline—
and that trend was becoming impossible to ignore.
This was, without a doubt, a move that dug straight into the Church's foundations.
Naturally, the Church could not allow such behavior to continue unchecked.
Beyond issuing public condemnations, it had recently begun taking commissions across various regions far more seriously—hoping to reclaim public trust through the visible eradication of evil.
That was precisely why, for the Germantown Friends School incident, three clerics had been dispatched at once.
As for why Gideon was included—
Just as Flora had said: they were short on manpower.
The school was located north of Philadelphia, and as a subordinate institution, Dei Theological Seminary was expected to contribute at least one cleric.
Thus, Gideon became the so-called "local guide."
---
Near Germantown Friends School
Dozens of police cars were parked nearby, red and blue lights flashing in alternating patterns.
Officers were spread around the campus, forming a human barricade that pushed back curious onlookers.
Farther down the road, luxury cars lined the street—but their owners looked far less composed.
"Sheriff Roberto! It's been three days already! Why are we still not allowed inside the school?"
"I donated five patrol cars to the department—is this how you handle things?"
"Who are those people? Where are the Church's exorcists?!"
A crowd surrounded a white officer.
Sheriff Roberto, heavyset and drenched in sweat after barely standing outside for a short while, resisted the urge to pull out the silk handkerchief in his pocket and instead wiped his brow with his elbow.
These parents had been waiting outside the school for three straight days.
Disheveled as they looked, Roberto knew very well that if he wanted to retire smoothly, their opinions mattered.
"I'm sorry, everyone. This is for your own safety," he repeated, for what felt like the hundredth time.
Roberto had no authority to order the school sealed off—but he was the one left to absorb the parents' fury so that those above him could sit comfortably.
Unsurprisingly, the parents had little faith in such "official explanations."
Sensing another wave of accusations coming, Roberto quickly excused himself under the pretense of "checking progress" and squeezed out of the crowd.
"Good Lord," he muttered while wiping his head again. "Taking a little dirty money and still having to deal with this… it's not easy."
Passing through two layers of barricades, Roberto arrived at an open-air tent.
Just then, voices drifted out from inside.
"Based on the frequency-resonance data collected over the past two days, the area around the school is covered by an energy field. Anyone who enters the zone falls into sleep almost immediately…"
Roberto's eyes lit up.
"Is there progress?"
He hurried inside.
---
Inside the Command Tent
The tent was filled with complex instruments, all running at full capacity.
On a table sat a graphite printer, clicking rhythmically as it drew zigzagging graphs onto paper.
The man who had spoken wore a plaid shirt, every inch the academic.
But Roberto dared not underestimate him.
This was Mark DeVria, heir to DeVria Industries—the second-largest detection equipment manufacturer in the U.S., rumored to have ties to the military.
More notably, Mark was also a co-founder of Light of Humanity—the new exorcist organization making headlines.
Mark held up a stack of data sheets, his face bright with excitement as he looked toward a woman standing opposite him.
"Look! Our equipment works!"
He handed her the papers.
The woman possessed striking, refined features.
She wore a fitted black dress—high-necked yet impossible to mistake for modest—accentuating her elegant, alluring figure. Slits along her waist revealed glimpses of wheat-toned skin, lending her an air of mystery.
Paired with her brown wavy hair, her presence was commanding.
She was Gale Tiago—the same woman Gideon had encountered during the exhibition incident.
"Good work, Mark," she said with a smile, accepting the data.
Mark froze for a second before awkwardly turning away.
"This is just a small step," he muttered quickly. "I still need to fine-tune the thermal sensors. Different threat levels produce different anomaly values—only readings below 0.5E/m³ are…"
"Uh—Mr. Mark, Ms. Gale."
Roberto removed his cap and pressed it to his chest, realizing he'd walked in at an awkward moment.
"Any real progress? The parents are running out of patience."
Gale nodded slightly and passed Mark's findings to him.
"Give me one more day. If we can measure how the energy field affects brainwave frequencies, we might be able to solve the sleep issue."
Mark flipped through his data without even looking up.
"If we resolve this case, it'll be proof that instruments can defeat evil."
"Light of Humanity could then collaborate with other police departments around Philadelphia and conduct more trials…"
"Well…" Roberto hesitated.
Then he remembered something.
"Oh—by the way. I just got word that members from several other exorcist organizations have arrived. They should be on their way here."
Mark snapped his head up, a flicker of coldness in his eyes.
Gale's expression turned complicated.
Moments later, noise erupted outside.
---
"Straighten your back, Pence! Only cowards hunch over! Don't disgrace your longsword!"
"Sorry, Knight Henry… my waist gets sore walking like that!"
Two men entered the tent.
The first wore a gray tunic with restraint guards at his sleeves—but what stood out most was his posture: ramrod straight, chin lifted nearly to the tent ceiling.
The second dressed similarly but looked far less comfortable.
Roberto glanced at their waists.
Both men carried cross-shaped longswords, straight out of the Middle Ages.
"They just walked around town like that?" Roberto wiped his forehead again. "Didn't the chief say these groups were illegal…?"
In the end, he decided to prioritize the mission.
Before the knights had fully settled in, a foul stench spread through the tent.
It smelled like someone had fished garbage from a dumpster, tossed it into a pot, added water, salt, a chair leg, two rotten eggs—and boiled it for two days straight.
Not a recipe.
Just a metaphor.
"Greetings," came a thin voice. "I am Lombarn, known as the Tall Wizard, representing the Wizard Association."
Everyone turned—only to see a dwarf-like figure.
Lombarn wore a pointed brimmed hat and clean gray robes. His smile, paired with a hooked nose, made him look rather menacing.
"Allow me to introduce my companion—Winona Gray, Witch."
He stepped aside unnecessarily.
Lombarn barely reached her knee.
Winona gave a curt nod, arms crossed, radiating cold detachment.
Hidden from view, she clutched a glass vial filled with pale green liquid that bubbled ominously.
"Well," Henry scoffed, "even heretics can stroll the streets openly now."
Hanka Pence froze, quickly tugging Henry's sleeve.
"Sir—we still need to promote the Lord Knights! Remember what Knight Bell said!"
Henry remained stiff but silent.
Winona wasn't finished.
"At least we know what we believe," she said coldly. "Unlike dogs who betrayed the Church."
Henry snapped.
He drew his sword and pointed it at her.
"By the Sovereign's command, our faith stands supreme! You filthy witch dare insult us? I'll execute you in the name of knighthood!"
Lombarn hopped between them, waving his arms frantically.
"Hey—hey! Calm down! This is a civilized society! And there's a law-abiding sheriff right here!"
Roberto touched his nose. The word law-abiding made him uneasy.
Mark raised a device shaped like a camera.
"As long as you people don't curse anyone behind our backs, we'll handle this mission ourselves."
Gale quickly stepped in.
"What Mark means is—Light of Humanity will fully cooperate with the police."
Roberto nodded reflexively.
Henry sneered. "You think toys can cleanse evil? Even the Church knows better than that."
Mark nearly lunged forward, but Gale restrained him, whispering, "We need allies right now."
Reluctantly, Mark backed off.
Lombarn clapped his hands. "Speaking of which—where are the Church representatives?"
Before Roberto could answer, a cold voice came from the entrance.
"Confronting evil is the Church's duty."
Wilton stepped inside, followed by Bettice and Gideon.
Wilton moved with refined grace, posture immaculate.
"For over a thousand years, the Church has battled evil. Every ritual is a blessing bestowed by the Lord."
He glanced at Henry.
"And holy water—made from pure water, sanctified salt, and sun-bathed plants—has no odor whatsoever."
"So I suggest choosing your words carefully."
"Uninformed 'science' only exposes ignorance."
All eyes turned to the door.
The fragile truce shattered.
Roberto wiped his brow again, sweating even more.
"Oh God… if I sneak out now, they won't call the cops on me, right…?"
Gideon watched calmly, suppressing the urge to comment.
Knights. Witches. Tech zealots.
Add three clergy members, and it looked less like an operation—more like a twisted fairy-tale showcase.
As he pieced together the fragments, Gideon suddenly felt a gaze upon him.
He turned and met the eyes of a woman who blended classical grace with modern sharpness—eyes bright, as if she'd found someone long sought.
His throat tightened.
What did I break this time…?
Before he could react, he sensed another hostile stare.