The specific manifestations of demonic possession are generally quite obvious and present themselves in several ways.
First, there are changes in voice and tone. Those possessed by demons generally produce deep, low-pitched voices with a terrifying and evil aura, similar to the roar of a wild beast—hoarse, cold, and filled with malice and mockery.
Moving further, their personality undergoes drastic changes, potentially manifesting in extreme violent impulses, leading to the destruction of objects and attacks on people around them.
Moving further still, we reach the second stage.
This second stage may involve the manifestation of demonic power, specifically seen in sudden abnormal distortions and spasms of the body, with muscles contracting and twisting uncontrollably.
This change makes the host's movements stiff and uncoordinated, giving off an unnatural and frightening feeling.
Most terrifyingly, the host can display inhuman feats, such as clinging to a wall like a gecko.
This is the origin of various contortionist 'joint-cracking' techniques seen in movies.
By this stage, the host's life is already in a certain degree of danger.
"..."
Hearing the old man's account, York felt a sense of relief.
Because the old man was religious and had accumulated enough experience, his own knowledge base included some points regarding demons.
So, when the demon had just entered the first stage, the old man and his family decisively confined it within a room. Upon learning that he had arrived, they immediately sought him out.
The entire process was very well-organized.
This is probably why they say an elderly person in the house is like a treasure. York subconsciously glanced at the old man beside him and found him still anxious and uneasy, so he habitually offered a comforting word.
"Rest assured, Mr. Welber, it is not yet the most dangerous time."
The underlying meaning was: stay calm, I can handle it.
The old man's expression softened instantly, though his voice still trembled slightly.
"God bless."
Seeing this, York glanced again at Robert, who was carrying the bag. He saw only hesitation and confusion on the man's face, but no fear—a look of pure ignorance being bliss... "Amen."
Withdrawing his gaze, York made the sign of the cross over his chest and pushed open the front door.
The layout of the house came into view.
Living room on the right, kitchen on the left, a staircase in the middle leading upstairs, and a small path beside it leading straight to the backyard.
It was no different from any other house layout, yet York could sense an evil aura within. He tilted his head slightly, his gaze showing a hint of hesitation.
"Even so... why does this feel like a familiar scent?"
Robert, following behind, looked around. Seeing the priest suddenly stop in front of the stairs, he gripped the cross on his chest and began to feel nervous.
"Father Yorkes, is something wrong?"
These words made old Welber uneasy again. His clouded eyes stared fixedly at the priest.
"No."
York shook his head and continued up the stairs. With every step, his gaze shifted from hesitation to surprise, finally looking toward a room deep inside.
From here, the roaring inside could already be heard. The raspy sound, like a knife scraping, made one's skin crawl.
"Ugh, aaaaaah!!"
The roar alone was enough to make an ordinary person instinctively feel a sense of evil, even affecting the atmosphere around the room.
Cold, dark—the light refracting into the room seemed to be swallowed whole.
It was an indescribable feeling, like the natural reaction you'd have if you knew the person in front of you was a man-eating demon; it had nothing to do with how brave you were.
Robert, who had been doing fine, a man nearly 1.8 meters tall, shrank back, trying to make himself smaller.
As the one personally involved, old Welber managed to keep his composure, though he said nervously:
"Father..."
"It's alright, Mr. Welber."
York comforted the old man once more, then took the backpack from Robert's hands.
"Robert, you wait for me here."
Robert was stunned for a moment, thinking the priest had misunderstood his fear. "Father Yorkes, I can actually go in..."
He was interrupted by York before he could finish.
"No need. This is far enough, Robert."
Robert could only stand there awkwardly, not knowing what to say.
York didn't pay him any mind. Carrying the backpack in one hand, he walked slowly toward the room deep inside. Allowing the helpful Robert to carry the bag this far was already his limit.
His exorcism rule was that only family members could accompany him; otherwise, it was strictly one-on-one.
Sensing the young man's disappointment, old Welber patted Robert on the shoulder.
"Child, the Father is doing this for your own good. Facing a demon is not as simple as you imagine..."
Robert pursed his lips and nodded.
"I understand."
Hearing this, old Welber forced a smile and didn't linger, following the priest's footsteps.
"Roar!!"
"..."
Reaching the doorway, the sensation became more direct. The roar echoed in his mind, and the direct erosion of darkness deepened.
To prevent the old man's Spirit from being invaded by the demon, York silently consumed a point of Mana to disperse the dark currents swirling around him.
[One point of Mana used]
As the Mana appeared, there was a reaction from inside: "! Damn it! What is that smell I'm smelling!"
"Ugh, aaaaaah..."
Having done this, York ignored the roars inside, turned the handle, and opened the door.
As the door swung open, everything in the room came into view.
A normal room, standard procedure: a middle-aged woman, bound tightly, lay on the bed, struggling incessantly and rolling back and forth.
Her face was dark and sunken, looking like she hadn't slept for days, covered in oily residue. Her eyes had already begun to change—a sign that the demon was preparing to enter the second stage.
Facing the door, she stared fixedly at York and the old man. Her mouth, dripping with saliva, let out continuous roars.
"Roar!!!! You damned lackey!!"
York remained calm, looking at the victim before him, though his eyes held a look of reminiscence and reflection.
"No, you know that I am not a lackey, but the Lord's spokesperson."
As if to validate York's calm demeanor, the middle-aged woman, who was still roaring incessantly, suddenly stopped.
It was as if a stop button had been pressed; the entire room returned to silence.
She tilted her head, her changing pupils staring fixedly at the calm priest. Amidst her confusion, she seemed to be confirming something. The next second, her pupils dilated in a very human-like way.
"Shit!! Damn it! This is your territory too?"
This clear, familiar tone and the strange words made old Welber, who had been shrinking back, freeze. He subconsciously looked at his daughter on the bed, who had felt so foreign and terrifying to him.
With just that one look, the old man suddenly discovered that his daughter, who had been full of ferocity, had somehow regained her composure, instead showing a very strange and resentful expression.
"What's going on?"
The old man stared blankly at the calm priest beside him.
Sensing the old man's gaze, York smiled without explaining. He simply pulled over the chair from the desk, placed it by the bed, and sat down. He also set the backpack he had been carrying at his feet.
It was all done in one smooth motion.
Only then did York look at the middle-aged woman. He smiled warmly and said:
"The entire state of New York is within my jurisdiction, which means this place is too."
"Shit! Damn it!"
A voice that sounded like both a man and a beast rang out. The middle-aged woman seemed speechless; she shrugged and extended her hands, her grayish-white pupils staring at York sitting by the bed.
"I worked so hard just to come up here!"
This dialogue was extremely bizarre, steering the originally terrifying atmosphere straight toward something strange. Old Welber, huddled by the door, looked completely bewildered...