The priestess's group had stopped a few meters from the throne. The air had become heavy, thick with the smell of ozone and sulfur. Leo was curled up on his stone seat, his head tilted at an impossible angle, his limbs twitching violently, as if he were being manipulated by invisible strings.
"Stand back!" ordered the priestess, raising her silver crucifix. "Evil is deeply rooted in him!"
Leo let out a laugh that didn't come from his throat. It was a saturated sound, as if several audio frequencies were colliding. He began reciting words backwards, a technique he had learned from an old horror movie on his designer tablet. His eyes rolled back, revealing only the whites, while his fingers clawed at the armrests.
"In the name of the Light, I command you to come out!" she shouted, approaching to place her blessed hand on the boy's forehead.
It was the mistake he had been waiting for. The "perfect pixel" of the trap.
The moment her fingers touched his skin, Leo's trembling stopped abruptly. Silence returned, brutally. He raised his head with mechanical slowness, his eyes injected with black ink staring at the priestess.
"The Light... has no... layer here..." he whispered in a guttural voice.
Before she could step back, Leo's hand shot out, quick as a snake. He grabbed her wrist with inhuman strength. The priestess opened her mouth to scream, but no sound came out. Leo used his power as a designer to "mutate" the area around her throat, suppressing the sound as if pressing the mute button.
Barnabas, behind them, clasped his hands together in prayer, playing his role to perfection:
"Oh no! The spirit is angry! He does not like poorly prepared rituals! Hide, my friends, or it will take us all away!"
Leo rose slowly, his body stretching with ominous cracks reminiscent of the worst scenes of exorcism. He raised his scythe, its blade of darkness seeming to absorb the light from the surrounding candles.
"Don't... touch... me... anymore..."
With a fluid, circular motion, he swung his blade. It didn't just cut through flesh; it seemed to tear through space itself. The priestess was thrown backwards, a gaping purple wound across her chest where her soul had just been "erased." She collapsed to the floor, her eyes empty, her crucifix shattering into a thousand pieces.
Leo resumed his twisted posture, spitting a viscous black liquid at the foot of the throne, perfectly imitating the special effects of a horror blockbuster.
The warrior, the archer, and the thief took a step back, terror written on their faces. It wasn't a child they had come to save. It was a nightmare they had just awakened.