Chapter 4
To empower humanity against the encroaching darkness, four brave souls knelt in fervent prayer to Yahweh, beseeching His aid. In response, He bestowed upon them a gift: "Grace," the divine power of the angels.
Insidious Covenant Church, Sancta Veritas
A heavy wooden door creaked open, revealing a dimly lit chamber where a slender figure dragged Jerome's battered and bloodied form across the cold concrete floor. The air was thick with a cacophony of eerie chants and fervent prayers, the words spilling forth from the dark-cloaked figures that filled the room. Undeterred by the macabre atmosphere, the woman continued pulling Jerome toward a towering inverted crucifix adorned with grotesque statues of demons, surrounded by twelve chairs, nine of which were occupied by hooded figures.
"Back so soon, Rakael?" a slouched man asked, his voice dripping with insincerity as he leaned against the wall, his skeletal frame casting long shadows in the flickering candlelight.
"What do you want, Henri?" Rakael snapped curtly, her patience waning.
"Nothing much, just eagerly awaiting your return," he replied, his tall, gaunt figure looming ominously over her. Rakael met his abyss-like gaze with her own slit pupils, and an unsettling grin crept across his face.
"Aye, don't go scaring the new girl, Henri," chimed a high-pitched voice from above. A wiry figure dropped from the ceiling, landing nimbly beside the unconscious Jerome, a lollipop dangling from his mouth. "You're one hardcore lady, ain't ya?" he said, flashing a toothy grin.
"You both creep me out," Rakael muttered, unceremoniously dumping Jerome's body in a corner, her irritation palpable.
"Are you sure he's still alive? Your spiritual energy is leaking all over the place. Did you over exert yourself?" the newcomer inquired, his light blue eyes shimmering as he examined the dark, smoky aura swirling around Rakael. With a gentle touch, he placed his hands on her, coaxing the aura to stabilize.
"There, that's better," he said with a satisfied smile.
"Don't go leaking your spiritual energy like that, especially with those exorcists lurking about," Henri warned, adjusting his black dress coat with an air of importance.
"Isn't that the point of kidnapping the Prelate's son? To weaken the exorcists of Saint Agnes Church and seize the Seat of God so we can merge the four worlds?" Rakael shot back defiantly.
"It's refreshing to see someone with the church's grand plan at the forefront of her mind," a muscular figure emerged from the shadows, clad only in tattered jeans, his body a canvas of strange tattoos, scars, and the remnants of past battles. Both Cedric and Henri instinctively bowed before the imposing presence.
"But respect is paramount," he said, his voice a low growl as he advanced toward Rakael, releasing a wave of spiritual energy that pressed down upon her. She fought against it at first, but the weight of his power soon forced her to her knees.
"That's better," he said, plucking a black hood from the wall behind her. "The members await you, Master Veyan," Cedric announced, a glimmer of reverence in his voice.
Veyan swept aside a heavy curtain, revealing the altar of the church, dimly illuminated by flickering torches.
"Rakael, come and bask in the glory of chaos. You are now a full member of the Insidious Covenant Church," he proclaimed, extending his hand toward her with a flourish.
Ignoring his outstretched hand, Rakael strode confidently to the altar, the eager gazes of the hooded members below igniting a spark of pride within her.
"She'll make a fine addition, don't you think?" Cedric asked, a hint of approval in his tone.
"She still has much to learn," Henri replied, following Veyan to the altar. Rakael settled into the vacant seat furthest to her right, while Veyan perched regally on the golden throne beneath the ominous demonic statue.
"The time has come. The Insidious Covenant Church has slumbered for too long. Now, we wage war against those who dare to oppose our paradise, those who hunt us down. But we require your help; we need your blood for strength. Give up your life for the prosperity of the church, give up your life for your god, GIVE UP YOUR LIFE FOR ME."
The hooded members drew their daggers, slashing their throats in unison. Blood flowed across a twelve-pointed star drawn upon the ground beneath them, illuminating the darkened room with a haunting red glow.
One by one, they rose from their seats and positioned themselves at the points of the star, kicking aside the lifeless bodies of their sacrifices. Veyan made a swift cut to his own flesh, allowing his blood to drip onto the glowing star. Smoke and flickers of flame coalesced at the center as twelve grotesque, demonic creatures began to emerge, each one slinking toward a waiting member.
"Our time is now."
---
Saint Agnes Basilica, Southern Italia
Ecclesiastical Captain's Office
"This matter seems trivial, Micah," Daniel said, taking a leisurely sip from his teacup, his brow furrowed with mild discontent.
"I know, but only you have the authority to make this happen. You're the highest authority in this church—"
"But not the highest in the whole country," Daniel interrupted, his voice calm
"I understand, but—"
"What if the other churches catch wind of this? The history of our church must not be tainted by the decisions of a single exorcist."
"The boy would be under my supervision, a part of my team," Micah insisted, his voice steady.
Daniel's piercing gaze bore into Micah's. "So you're suggesting that you want to ascend the ranks and become an Inquisitorial Captain?"
"Yes," Micah affirmed
A sly grin crept across Daniel's face. "Why now? You graduated from the church's orphanage as one of its brightest, setting a record that has stood unbroken for ten years. You graduated at ten, became a master exorcist just three years later, and now you stand as one of the strongest exorcists in the country—"
"Where are you going with this?"
"This child—why are you suddenly seeking a promotion?"
Micah sighed, the weight of his emotions evident in his posture. "He reminds me of someone."
"Someone?"
"Someone I couldn't save, someone who fell into darkness."
"You still carry the burden of Israel's corruption?" Daniel pressed, his tone shifting to one of concern.
"Like Israel, this child was forced into a power he didn't choose. If we don't guide him toward the light, what purpose does the exorcist church serve?" Micah said, his gaze drifting toward the window.
"It's late. You should return to your dorm," Daniel said, rising from his seat and moving back to his desk.
"Is that a yes?" Micah asked, desperation lacing his tone.
"I'll inform the Order of Illuminae about the boy's malevolent energy problem. I trust Karin will devise a solution," Daniel replied, a note of resignation in his voice.
Micah knelt, gratitude radiating from him. "Thank you."
"It's nothing. I owe your father for saving my life on more than one occasion," Daniel said with a smile.
---
Jeremiah's Ward
The ceiling fan in the sterile white room creaked with each rotation. Slowly, Jeremiah blinked his eyes open, confusion clouding his thoughts.
"Where am I?" he murmured, voice barely rising above a whisper.
"You're awake," Micah replied, setting aside the magazine he had been perusing.
"What happened?" Jeremiah asked, attempting to sit up but groaning in pain as he did.
"You got your head cut off," Micah quipped, struggling to keep his tone light-hearted.
"How am I still alive?" Jeremiah's eyes widened with disbelief.
"We have a remarkably talented medical team here," Micah replied with a hint of pride.
"They can bring people back to life?" Jeremiah asked incredulously.
"Not really. Eosphoros intervened to keep you alive while the Celestial Healers worked their magic."
"Celestial Healers?" Jeremiah echoed, struggling to wrap his mind around the concept.
"A division of the church focused on healing, composed primarily of individuals gifted with healing grace."
"What is grace, exactly?" Jeremiah pressed, intrigued.
Micah dropped the magazine and extended his hand, light particles swirling around it like tiny stars.
"Long ago, after the world was divided, four individuals prayed for help, and Yahweh answered their pleas, granting them the power of the archangels, which we now refer to as grace. These four became the heads of the noble families and the foundations upon which the exorcist churches stand. Grace is the harnessing of spiritual energy, primarily by those with angelic blood. Others who lack that blood can wield blessed artifacts, but they cannot access grace. Those individuals usually become priests, like Desmond."
"So does that mean I might gain grace?" Jeremiah asked, hope flickering within him.
"I doubt it... But to stand alongside exorcists wielding grace, you must strengthen your connection with Eosphoros," Micah advised.
"What happens to me now?" Jeremiah inquired, concerned
"We cannot ignore the challenge before us," Micah replied, his voice growing serious. "Your path depends on you. I have a couple of questions, and your answers will determine your fate." He stared intently into Jeremiah's eyes.
"Why so serious?" Jeremiah asked, attempting to lighten the mood.
"Jeremiah, what do you intend to do with your gift?"
"Gift? It feels more like a curse," Jeremiah lamented.
"I never wanted this. It was thrust upon me. Now, I bear the pain and suffering of my dead siblings and the weight of my parents' regrets. It haunts me—knowing they were followers of the Insidious Covenant Church, for years I've had to run away and watch Eosphoros murder on my behalf, it makes me feel weak, i am more than that and i want to prove it to everyone".
Micah smiled
"That's why I want you to become an exorcist. I hope you've considered it seriously. A grand operation against the Insidious Church is forthcoming, and I want you to be part of it. But first, you need to become a journeyman exorcist to join."
Jeremiah chuckled bitterly. "Let's face it who in their right mind would accept a devil as an exorcist?"
"You're not a devil."
"Oh, I'm a devil," he said, revealing the sigil on his palm. "This proves it. I may only possess a fragment of Lucifer's malevolent energy, but it's only a matter of time before I fully become one."
"Well, there's a way to slow it down at least Karin, you can come in now."
"E…excuse me," the door creaked open, and a woman stepped into the room, clutching a tablet close to her chest. Her almond-shaped eyes sparkled behind her glasses as she averted her gaze from them. Clad in the church's deep blue uniform, embellished with a radiant open book on the right side and a white sash featuring a cross around her waist, Karin approached Jeremiah's bedside with hesitant grace.
"You wanted to see me?" she asked Micah, fidgeting with her glasses.
"Yes, I need your help for something," Micah replied.