Chapter 252: Two Demons, Betrayal, London

England.

London, northern suburbs, Enfield district.

“Hey, Morris, you look awful—go to the hospital right away.”

“Morris doesn’t have a proper job or insurance—do you want to get ripped off by those vampires at the hospital? Just buy some painkillers at the clinic.”

“Yeah, painkillers work great—your neighbor in the wheelchair takes them every day.”

“No, thanks for the concern.”

The man in a light yellow suit forced a smile, turned back around, and couldn’t help rubbing his red eyes as he climbed the stairs step by step.

It was an old apartment building; Morris returned to his room and clicked the door shut.

He plopped down onto the sofa with a thud.

He collapsed onto it, staring blankly at the ceiling.

He didn’t understand.

Why?

Why didn’t God protect him?

He had helped Sister Eileen and Father Anthony reseal the demon god Valak back into hell, and he had helped Eileen destroy Valak’s avatar that had possessed him.

But, but why wasn’t it gone? Why is its lingering soul still inside me!?

For weeks now, he’s dreamed every night of terrifying, grotesque nuns—murdering, mutilating corpses, tearing off heads…

“Aaaahhhhh!!”

“Valak! Come out!”

“Tormenting me is nothing! Have the guts to go after the Lord! You failure! You damned fallen angel! You deserve to never find the Eye of Saint Lucy—I curse you, I curse you to never regain your power!!”

“Did you hear that, Valak? I fuck your mother!!”

Morris roared to the sky; his piercing cry pierced the glass, yet strangely drew no attention from anyone.

Sssss—

At that moment, threads of blood spread across his sclera, winding around his pupils like vines.

Hum!!

Before his eyes, a hallucination appeared.

He seemed to see again the revered and beautiful Sister Eileen—she, she was opening her arms with a gentle smile, like the Virgin Mary in legend, quietly waiting for this “child” to return.

“Sister Eileen… Miss Eileen… I—I have something I want to tell you.”

Morris stumbled toward her embrace, eyes welling with tears, voice trembling with emotion.

Thwack!

He embraced her.

But what he felt was not warmth or softness—only coldness and roughness; Morris froze completely.

!!!

A large, sharp hand gently patted his shoulder; a faint pain spread from his shoulder, yet nothing hurt more than his heart—before his eyes, the black nun’s robe now loomed towering above him.

He stared up, dumbfounded.

A gray, corpse-like face stared down at him; their eyes met, and the lips curled into a grin, revealing a mess of sharp, white, interlocking fangs.

“Aaaahhhhhhh!!”

Amid the piercing scream,

Bang!

Morris’s corpse collapsed to the floor, blood gushing freely from his head, still clutching the long-barreled gun tightly in his hand.

Valak watched this scene, revealing a grotesque smile, and with one hand, snatched the phantom soul still wailing into its grasp.

Click-click-click!

At that moment, the room trembled.

Swirling black mist formed a four-horned demon beside him—it was Malthus.

As Louis had predicted, the two demons had indeed conspired together.

“Malthus, have you found that old ghost yet?”

Valak spoke, voice coarse and low, tinged with an unnatural tone—as if neither male nor female.

Malthus stepped half a pace back; it was a great demon, while the other was a demon god. Though demons know no loyalty, hierarchy among lower and middle ranks remains strict.

“We have a lead on that old ghost. But this isn’t my territory—I’ve never operated here, it’s overseas, so tracking it down is difficult and has taken time.”

Malthus’s followers had traveled across oceans to England, leaving them with little strength to build influence here; if not for Malthus’s personal intervention, there might still be no lead.

That’s why it gave this explanation.

But.

Bang!

Valak waved a hand.

Powerful force crushed Malthus, pinning it to its knees with a thud.

Cracks spread across the floor.

Malthus offered no resistance.

“Find it quickly. Without these dark creatures, our current state makes us no match for the descendants of saints or holy relics.”

“Yes.”

Malthus offered no rebuttal, answering respectfully.

But.

“Who were you just talking to?”

Valak suddenly asked.

!!!

Startled, Malthus quickly explained everything about itself and the human Louis.

Valak, the demon of truth, never lies—and can see through others’ lies. Hiding anything from it is suicide.

After hearing Malthus’s words, Valak’s eyes flashed with malice.

This demon has ulterior motives.

Demons having ulterior motives is normal; it’s strange if they don’t. Especially demons under Beiret—having them is expected. But this one is stupid.

“Fool, have you ever considered that if he can access your communication array, he might also have ways to find your followers?”

All his followers have been relocated to England—if he searches, he’ll easily know you’re here.

“Hurry up. Find that old ghost quickly, then seek the saint’s descendants.”

“Yes.”

Malthus, nearly vomiting blood from the pressure, barely replied.

After Valak vanished, Malthus rose, eyes filled with fury and hatred.

I’m stupid?

I think you’re the stupid one!

Since arriving in England, nothing has gone right—no, since meeting that human, nothing has gone right. I thought I finally found an ally, but ended up with a father.

And this Valak? All it cares about is finding Eileen, the saint’s descendant, to restore its power—completely oblivious to the importance of hiding, recovering strength, and waiting for the plan to begin. It has no brains at all.

Oh no, not zero brains—it at least knows to find helpers, to use subordinates to regain power. But that’s only because it got burned twice. Otherwise, it’d still be an idiot!

Hssss~ huuu~

Malthus took a deep breath.

Now, like Valak, it exists as a lingering soul—its avatar destroyed, power greatly diminished. It still retains the strength of an ordinary demon, but it’s barely holding onto even that rank.

And its true body remains in hell—if it provokes Valak, and Valak’s lingering soul perishes or sends a message through the array, it can immediately retaliate in hell. But my master, the demon god Beiret, may not defend me.

So.

Endure.

Once I find that old ghost, and use the vampire army to harvest souls and restore power, I’ll find a chance to break free from this thing—and wait for Mamen’s orders to launch the plan.

At that time, with even greater strength and Beiret’s horn in hand, I won’t need to fear a twice-defeated Valak…

So.

I’m not looking for any Eileen!

Though Malthus had already decided to betray Valak and abandon the mission halfway, its face showed no sign of it.

It suspected Valak was watching it.

Then.

A trail of water appeared on the floor; a weeping woman flickered faintly. Malthus dissolved into black mist, merging into her body, vanishing entirely.

…

At the moment Morris died,

In England, the seaside city of Brighton—a city close to London.

A blonde woman in a black nun’s habit, in her twenties, appearing pure and holy, boarded the train. She smiled, and when a curious child beside her looked over, she pulled out a candy and handed it over.

“Thank you, sister.”

Eileen’s smile brightened further.

Click.

The train jolted slightly—trains of this era always did, inevitably shaking on the rails.

But Eileen suddenly clutched her chest; a sharp pain flashed over her heart, and a sense of foreboding arose spontaneously.

Since the extreme danger brought by Varak years ago awakened her Saintly Bloodline, she had consciously developed its abilities, and today she possessed many powers.

Such as premonition.

Though not yet at the level of divine revelation, it was extraordinarily accurate.

This faint pain now must signify something.

Eileen clasped her hands together before her chest, closed her eyes, and began to pray.

Moments later.

Sadness appeared in her gaze.

She felt it—a person she cared for had died, and she also sensed the presence of a long-standing enemy.

Varak.

It had not vanished!

Right there in London!

Conveniently, this train’s destination was London.

“So, Lord, was your purpose in sending me to England to finally eliminate Varak?”

She murmured to herself.

Her blood faintly shimmered with golden light.

Golden hues flashed through her pupils and vanished.

…

Massachusetts.

Several months had passed since the Cleaners Company opened; its expansion had been impressive, and even nobles from neighboring states had heard of it—some priests saw declining church revenues, and some wealthy patrons had reduced their visits.

Moreover, because of Michael’s backing, the Bureau had not moved against it, merely instructing Louis to register as a religious organization at the Secretary of State’s office when he had time.

Some of the Kitchen God talismans Louis issued were considered taboo; though America claimed to stand for freedom, and sometimes truly was free,

matters of faith were different.

Disputes within Protestantism were one thing, but heresies were to be shunned—especially Louis’s blatant profit-seeking and infringement on their interests. As his influence grew, opposition would inevitably come.

So at least, on the official front, they needed to complete the paperwork first, to avoid giving anyone leverage.

But Louis didn’t care—no matter how sacred faith was, money mattered more; talismans were business, mere commodities. In the end, Louis simply registered a basic business unit at the Massachusetts Secretary of State’s office.

With the Cleaners Company’s expansion,

More interest groups were affected. Beyond some churches, even folk mediums, fortune-tellers, folk customs experts, and paranormal investigation agencies—who relied on this trade for their livelihood—lost income and jobs.

The Warrens’ New England Society for the Paranormal was naturally affected as well.

In their warm home, before the fireplace.

Ed stared gloomily at the bill in his hands—the charges were about to exceed the limit again.

Living in America was expensive, especially for middle-class families caught in between.

The poor didn’t care—they gave up, and there was nothing more to squeeze. The wealthy had money, didn’t care, and had many tax-avoidance methods.

But the middle class—America’s primary tax base—had just enough money to be burdened, not enough to be free; they couldn’t give up, yet couldn’t rise, stuck there.

The Warrens were no exception.

Despite their fame, frequent newspaper features, late-night paranormal shows, and numerous exorcism commissions that brought in substantial income, their expenses were high: property taxes on this luxurious house, expensive health insurance, their daughter’s elite school fees, and countless other bills…

Oh, right—they still hadn’t paid off their student loans.

So sometimes, they were short on cash.

And now, this problem had intensified.

“Where the hell did this Cleaners Company even come from?”

“It’s stolen so much business—this month’s advertising fees still unpaid. Damn, are we going to have to dip into savings?”

A pair of hands massaged Ed’s temples—it was Luo Lin. She looked at her husband and their daughter playing in the room, hesitated, then said, “I remember there’s a high-paying commission in England—something about a suspected vampire. You—”

Before she finished, Ed cut her off: “No, not this one.”

After resolving the Peren family case (Summoning 1), Luo Lin had seen the terrifying ghost nun and cried for the first time. Afterwards, she described the vision she’d seen.

She saw Ed being killed—she understood it was the ghost nun’s warning.

Since then, Ed had refused all commissions in England.

“Ed, listen—I know you’re doing this for me, but if we just avoid interfering with the ghost nun, complete the job, and come right back, wouldn’t that be perfect?” Luo Lin said.

“I don’t want you using our savings—that’s our fund for traveling the world after retirement. We can’t waste it.”

“… ”

“Fine. I’ll go. I’ll solve it and come right back.”

“Mm.”

After deciding, the two returned to their room to rest, and pulled their daughter—who kept trying to sneak downstairs—over for a warning.

Beneath their luxurious home lay a locked, large room, neatly lined with display cabinets, each holding strange artifacts.

These were the paranormal objects they’d neutralized during past commissions, sealed away within.

This was also the New England Society for the Paranormal’s storage room.

Thus,

the Warrens were about to embark on their journey to England.

Meanwhile, the Saintly Descendant Eileen and the Left-Path Sorcerer Louis were also about to depart—unplanned, yet in unison.

Fate converged on London.

(End of Chapter)