Exorcist of the American Nightmares

With a click, Todd stood silently, his gaze lingering on the wall equipped with the secret door, right where Hillery had just left. After about four or five seconds, he turned to face the computer and the barcode scanner before picking up the phone beside him.

"Hello, Todd, what's the matter?" Old Mike's aged voice came through the phone.

"Bishop Mike, Hillery has returned," Todd replied respectfully.

There was a moment of silence on the line before Old Mike responded, "I know." The sound of the phone hanging up followed, and Todd silently put the phone down and continued his duties as a cashier.

Meanwhile, in an underground space larger than the convenience store, equipped with various amenities for entertainment and leisure, Old Mike, wearing a white coat like a researcher, also put down the phone. His brow furrowed slightly as he muttered to himself, "Why has the boy come back?"

Without dwelling on it, Old Mike moved to the other side of his desk and typed a few keys on the keyboard.

The screen immediately displayed the video feed he wanted to see. It showed a person greeting familiar demons as he headed straight to Mike's laboratory. It looked like he would arrive shortly.

"This boy," muttered Old Mike as he scrutinized Hillery's uniform, much like Todd had done above.

"He really looks the part," he observed, unsure if he felt reassured. He didn't even know what his own expression was. If Todd came down and saw his bishop looking like this, he would probably be surprised and understanding.

His gaze softened, and a slight smile played on his lips—a father proud of his son finding his path or enjoying what he does or simply happy and proud of his child.

"He seems more mature." Old Mike watched as Hillery approached calmly, talking to himself again.

"It looks like being with Bishop York has indeed given him some valuable experience."

As he mused, Old Mike looked up toward the door.

Soon, a knocking sound came from the door, causing Old Mike to chuckle despite himself.

"Come in."

The door opened, revealing Hillery. He saw his father, still busy with some curious gadget behind the desk, and smiled.

"Old man, I'm back."

Now, Old Mike's expression had returned to its usual calmness, showing none of the fatherly warmth from before.

"Why are you back? Aren't you supposed to be guarding Bishop York?"

Hillery's response made Old Mike pause.

"I missed you. Just didn't want you to die without me knowing," Hillery shrugged, looking at the equipment on the desk while speaking sincerely.

"I guess the bishop saw my concerns, so he gave me a holiday."

Old Mike was silent for a while, but his emotions didn't show on his face.

In front of his son, he always maintained a stoic expression, simply replying softly.

"Oh, I'm fine. If I died, I would let you know. After all, you're my only son."

His words were somewhat cold, but Hillery was used to it. He casually pulled up a stool to the desk and set down his backpack.

"Old man, the bishop also sent a message for you."

Old Mike glanced at the backpack on the desk. "What message?"

Hillery didn't respond immediately but opened the zipper of his backpack instead. "The bishop said he's thinking of promoting these things."

Old Mike's slightly pale brows furrowed as he looked at the contents of Hillery's opened backpack, which revealed several bullets.

"Are these the holy water bullets you made before?"

Old Mike picked up one of the bullets and observed the liquid swirling inside.

"Yeah," Hillery leaned back in his chair, supporting himself with his hands.

"I've proven that these holy water bullets are very effective. They maintain the bullet's inherent power and destructive capabilities while also possessing the effects of holy water."

As he spoke, Hillery looked at his father and continued.

"The bishop said that since the live broadcast has exposed the true face of our world, our church must also adapt and not be limited to its traditional powers."

Old Mike continued to hold the holy water bullet in his hand, watching it without responding.

But Hillery, undeterred by his father's attitude, continued.

"The bishop also said that, if possible, he would like these bullets to be distributed to vetted non-staff members of the church. Of course, these important weapons must remain under the church's control."

Hearing this, Old Mike sighed and finally put down the holy water bullet, looking at his increasingly mature son.

"It seems your bishop is really starting to get involved in church affairs."

Hillery smiled and said simply, "Because the bishop is York John. He said that since technology has advanced to this stage, why should we hesitate? If paranormal events are inevitable and clergy sometimes suffer casualties, it ultimately comes down to a lack of firepower. If conventional weapons can't harm these evil entities, then we should enhance our exorcism weapons

 with technology."

"Guns are a human invention, so why not try combining silver, holy stones, and holy water to create corresponding exorcism firearms? Bullets could be made from pure silver, holy stones, and concentrated holy water."

"If humanity possesses such destructive weapons as nuclear bombs, then why can't we create a divine version of the Tsar Bomba?"

Listening to Hillery's passionate speech, Old Mike's eyes twitched. He could sense the admiration and reverence in his son's tone.

As an old father, he couldn't help feeling a bit sour.

"Did York really say all this to you personally?"

Hillery's face wore a nostalgic smile. "Yes."

The thought of dropping a divine Tsar Bomba in Hell if demons dared cause trouble, which he heard directly from Bishop York, had greatly impressed him.

In today's church, who else but Bishop York would dare to suggest such a thing?

None, not a single one.

The church's clergy have always focused on resisting and exorcising demons, never considering descending into Hell themselves.

Only Bishop York would suggest that if demons dared to cause trouble, we should drop a divine Tsar Bomba right in their lair in Hell. Drop one every time they cause trouble, and see if they dare come to the human world again after that.

Only he knew how much that statement had impacted him.

"So, what does York want me to do?" Old Mike finally asked, sighing.

"I'm already retired, old, and I can't match his energy, position, or power."

"The bishop wants us to collaborate to develop corresponding exorcism weapons and spread the word among exorcist families worldwide, including our own..."

...

Another morning, around 8:30.

York opened his eyes in his spacious bed, his thoughts lingering in the holographic living room. Shaking his head, he watched Eileen and Hannah snuggle on the couch like sisters, engrossed in the television.

The screen displayed the ever-popular cartoon, Tom and Jerry.

The eternal rivals, Tom and Jerry, continued their endless game of cat and mouse, engaging in their usual antics.

Whenever a funny scene occurred, Hannah would burst into laughter, hugging Eileen and saying something that would make her smile too.

However, who knew that Eileen had been dragged to watch by Hannah and now found it so enjoyable? Who could she even share this change with?

"They're really going wild," York muttered to himself, not choosing to get up but rather lying back down, seeking a moment of tranquility.

After exercising Eileen's abilities yesterday, they didn't head straight back but instead thoroughly enjoyed the metropolis of New York—eating what should be eaten, playing what should be played, and buying what should be bought.

Now, the most troublesome thing was that Hannah seemed to be developing a desire to live here.

Last night, she had put on a very pitiable act, emanating an air of homelessness, which tugged at Eileen's heartstrings, leading her to take in Hannah despite her home being right next door.

Yes, these two ladies were now sharing a room.

York subconsciously recalled the layout of his house. It was indeed quite large, whether intentionally or not, or perhaps because of the basement.

Apart from the first floor, there was also a second floor, and rooms were certainly not in short supply.

The first floor already housed Hillery and John Wick's rooms, with two monks naturally occupying the protective duties on either side. Thus, the second floor was where he, the bishop, and the assisting deaconess resided.

Now, it seemed that soon there might be an additional person...

York watched Hannah in the holographic display, reminiscing about the past. He felt no significant resistance to Hannah moving in; after all, they had lived under the same roof before.

"Whatever."

York summoned the virtual interface and began to allocate points.

With the accumulation of recent times, he had gathered 13 usable attribute points.

Given his current strength, and since minor creatures no longer triggered random quests, these 13 points were quite valuable.

His personal panel was as follows.

[York John]

[Race: Human, Divine]

[Occupations: Priest, Bishop, Pharmacology Professor, Doctor, Knight...]

[Overall Constitution: 201]

[Health: 257/257]

[Spirit/Holiness: 403+1507 (consumable)/403+1507 (consumable) (Note: recovers one point per minute)]

[Magic: 401/401 (Note: recovers one point per minute)]

[...]

Without much thought, York decided to add the points to his health, which was nearly breaking 300.

He had always valued the capabilities that came with high health, and he still did now.

Regenerative ability meant a potential for immortality.

With the allocation complete, a notification sound echoed in his ear.

[Health: 257 increased to 270]

He felt a corresponding sensation in his body, but York

 was used to it, his expression unchanged.

He just wondered how breaking 300 health points would transform his already formidable body.

"If possible, it would be great to survive a modern nuclear strike," York mused, motivated by the health data.

He suddenly thought of Pluto Church and his past efforts to gain attribute points, murmuring to himself.

"Maybe I should return to the church now? But that seems like it could be troublesome."

York's expression sharpened as he considered the old believers. If he returned and the believers knew his identity, it might cause a big stir, and certainly, many would request to visit him.

That wasn't what he wanted.

"Or maybe..."

An idea suddenly flashed in York's mind.

"Just find some obscure church. As for Ed and the others, I'll just notify them again, give them the new address."

With that decided, York rose from the bed, his clothes floating up and dressing him automatically as he reached out.

Once in the living room.

Seeing Eileen and Hannah look over in surprise at the noise, York announced, "Prepare to return to the church,"

Then, under Eileen's stunned gaze, he continued.

"But not to Pluto Church, to a new church where nobody knows us. That's the real rest."

With that, the tone was set...

Thus, Romulus, the bishop overseeing the entire New York archdiocese, received a call about this matter.

"This guy always has a plan and decisively executes it," the old man's face twitched, wanting to criticize but eventually only managing to say, "That's youth for you."

Though he said this, Bishop Romulus took it seriously and arranged it immediately.

With the help of his staff, they indeed found a church in a less devout area.

Located north of Brooklyn, in Bronsville, this area was a melting pot of various races and had always been one of New York's more problematic areas in terms of law and order.

Its issues included crime, minor offenses, assaults, drug issues, shootings, murders, and more, making it one of the more dangerous parts of New York.

So the church's surrounding environment was just like that.

"Isn't it too dangerous? Although people around here respect the church and wouldn't do anything to the church, it's certainly not a place for quiet reflection," a priest clad in clerical robes, holding a folder, said quietly to Bishop Romulus, who was reviewing the information.

Seeing that Bishop Romulus didn't respond, the priest asked again softly.

"Bishop, perhaps you should consider another church?"

He had collected information on several churches and submitted them, but Bishop Romulus had his eyes set on this particular one.

Hearing this, Bishop Romulus put away the materials, looked at the priest before him, and said calmly.

"Anyone can be in danger, but this doesn't include Bishop York. Let's go with this one; it fits Bishop York's requirements perfectly."

Hearing this, the priest, regardless of his own thoughts, could only nod in agreement, bracing himself for what was to come.

___________________

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