After receiving the information, Blackheart and his group immediately headed toward St. Michael's Church.
After some "practice" along the way, they had become quite skilled at asking for directions.
It was a long, painful story.
Blackheart didn't care that one of his subordinates was already dead.
They were all just actors anyway.
If he hadn't been reluctant to waste the souls used to summon them, he would've sent all of them back to Hell already.
What he cared about was a serious question.
Do priests count as humans?
If he forced information out of one, would that count as violating the agreement-and give Morin an excuse to intervene?
Without the thousand prime souls bound in the San Venganza contract, Blackheart knew he wasn't Morin's match.
Not even close.
If not for Mephisto's agreement with Morin, he would have been dead long ago.
But going back to Mephisto and apologizing?
Impossible.
Not only would he face punishment he couldn't escape, but even without that-
Blackheart was sick of being a "prince" for tens of thousands of years.
Now, he wanted only one thing.
Get the San Venganza contract.
Absorb the souls.
Grow strong enough to fight Morin.
If he succeeded, Earth would be his playground.
This was his best option.
Morin, of course, was much faster than Blackheart's group.
While they were still on the road, Morin had already arrived at St. Michael's Church, exactly as Carter had described.
The church was enormous.
Lavish.
At first glance, it looked like the kind of place built by corrupt, greedy clergy you read about in books.
But the moment Morin activated the Eye of Justice, he frowned.
There was no black mist.
Instead, a white halo radiated from the statue of St. Michael at the center of the church, enveloping the entire building.
These priests were the real deal.
That raised a new question.
If they were genuine, why wasn't Heaven protecting them?
Was there a hidden reason?
Or was something wrong with Heaven itself?
Had Mephisto interfered?
Morin's expression grew thoughtful.
He activated his Justice Set and walked inside.
"Whum-"
The light barrier covering the church trembled as Morin entered.
The statue shook.
The reaction was strong enough that the priest praying before the statue noticed immediately.
The pure white shield began to shrink, condensing toward the statue's brow.
A small, visible point of light formed.
"Sir?"
The priest stood alert, gripping the cross on his chest.
A reaction like this meant a powerful demon had arrived.
"I'm a police officer," Morin said calmly, showing his badge.
Then he pointed toward the unmoving point of light before the statue.
"I'm here for that."
"...This," the priest hesitated.
He didn't know what the light was, but he couldn't simply hand it over.
"You seem to know what it is?"
"No," Morin replied honestly.
"But I believe its change was caused by my presence."
"So I should be the one to deal with it."
"Don't you think?"
He smiled.
The priest studied him for a moment, then nodded.
"Please. Be my guest."
Morin didn't radiate danger.
And when the priest clutched his cross, it gave off the same warm, sunlit feeling as when he stood near the statue.
The badge didn't matter.
Anyone could fake that.
But light, justice, warmth-
Those were harder to fake.
Especially here.
"Thank you," Morin said politely.
"You're welcome."
The priest stepped back.
Then he saw Morin vanish.
And reappear instantly at the base of the statue.
The priest froze.
That only deepened his respect.
Morin ignored him now.
All of his attention was on the point of light.
He didn't touch it.
Whatever this involved, it wasn't something he could afford to be careless with.
He cast a detection spell.
Result: pure light elements.
Nothing else.
He tried another method.
Then another.
More than twenty.
Same result every time.
A highly condensed, impenetrable mass of light.
"...Hmm."
Morin wasn't helpless.
But it was awkward.
Most of the magic he knew was black magic.
And most of that was unusable here.
Mephisto's spells were sinister.
Life sacrifices.
Equivalent exchanges.
Morin had only learned them to dismantle their structure and build his own system.
Now he hesitated.
If neutral or light magic couldn't affect it-
What would happen if he used black magic?
And what would the consequences be?
As he was thinking, he sensed something familiar approaching.
"...Ah," Morin said softly.
"The perfect pawn."
He flashed back in front of the priest.
"I'm sorry," he said.
"You'll need to bear with me for a moment."
Before the priest could react, Morin knocked him out and hid him safely.
Then he used a shapeshifting spell.
The priest's form.
The priest's presence.
Perfect.
He waited.
The point of light on the statue remained still.
Outside St. Michael's Church.
Blackheart paced back and forth.
The Wind Demon and Water Demon stood silently nearby.
Blackheart's expression was grim.
"...," the two demons exchanged glances.
They wanted to run.
But they'd already answered the call.
Already signed the contract.
Backing out now would be a total loss.
So they stayed.
"Can't either of you give me some advice?!"
Blackheart snapped after pacing dozens of times.
Silence.
Again.
"F*ck! Useless!"
The demons endured it.
They were used to it.
What else could they do?
They'd signed a contract with Mephisto's son.
Who knew he'd be such an ego-filled waste?
They complained internally.
Their faces stayed blank.
"Fck... fck..."
Blackheart kept pacing, grinding a shallow groove into the ground.
Inside the church.
Morin watched.
"...Are you getting cold feet?"
That wouldn't do.
A pawn that refused to move was useless.
Fortunately, after circling enough times to wear down the floor, Blackheart finally decided.
He turned toward the Wind Demon and Water Demon.
And walked toward the church.
Did he think it through?
Or did he just get reckless?
Morin watched from above, like a 3D projection.
Then-
Blackheart spoke.
Morin: "!!!"
Wind Demon: "!!!"
Water Demon: "!!!"
The three argued.
Faces flushed.
In the end, the Wind Demon and Water Demon gave in.
Reluctantly.
Morin sighed.
"...As expected of demons."
"They really can dig out the deepest desires in a person's heart."
But fortunately-
They were dealing with him.
If it had been the real priest, this might have worked.
Morin withdrew.
Moments later-
Three "women" walked into St. Michael's Church.
Devilish figures.
Devilish clothing.
Stiff expressions.
Clearly inexperienced.
This was Blackheart's plan.
He'd ordered the Wind Demon and Water Demon to shapeshift into women.
Using the most beautiful succubi in Hell as reference.
Seduce the priest.
Lower his guard.
Extract information about Carter Slade.
"...Despicable," Morin muttered.
"Evil, walking openly in daylight."
He raised his phone.
Click.
Click.
Click.
Twenty photos.
Not because he was tempted.
He'd seen the entire transformation process.
He was immune.
But even he admitted-
They were top-tier.
Figures.
Faces.
Outfits.
Perfect.
He planned to use the photos later.
To summon the real succubi.
And punish them.
Transformations didn't come from nothing.
They had originals.
"Omita-ah... never mind."
Morin almost tripped over his lines.
It was impossible to call himself "Father" seriously.
So he skipped it.
"What are you here for?"
Blackheart opened his mouth.
But his attention was locked on the point of light.
Outside, he hadn't noticed the halo.
Inside-
He felt St. Michael's presence.
Strong.
Cold sweat ran down his spine.
He'd been burned too many times.
Every instinct screamed-
Trap.
This was a trap.
"Ah!"
Blackheart shrieked and turned to flee.
Wind Demon and Water Demon froze.
Then the light point moved.
They bolted.
Morin stared.
"...Your escape reflexes are ridiculous."
"Did you invest everything into running away?"
Then-
He noticed something else.
The light-
Was moving toward him.
Morin's pupils shrank.
He prepared to flee.
When it came to running-
He was unmatched.
Then a system message appeared.
He stopped.
[Planar Mark detected.]
[Accept? Spend 100,000 experience points to reverse-locate, erase harmful information, and permanently fix.]
"Yes," Morin thought.
"Spend."
A burning sensation flared in his right hand.
Damage.
Actual damage.
Something that hadn't happened in a very long time.
He raised his hand.
A faint white wing tattoo emerged.
And slowly stabilized.
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