"Let me ask you again: where is the Saint Vangansa Contract?" Witchcraft Demon looked at the only bishop still alive in the church, a savage smile spreading across his pale face.
"I don't know what you're talking about." The bishop clutched the golden cross around his neck, forcing himself to sound calm, though his legs involuntarily backed away.
"Don't try to fool me. You've guarded it for years—guarded the secret."
"My oath will not allow someone like you to find it."
"An oath?" Witchcraft Demon smiled mockingly. "So you really do know where the Saint Vangansa Contract is."
"There's an old saying: never raise a tiger that will bring disaster upon you. My dad fell for that trick when he raised me."
The bishop swallowed and raised his cross with trembling hands, murmuring under his breath.
A white glow emerged across the surface of the cross, forming a thin barrier around him.
The bishop felt a trace of warmth from the light again, and he let out a relieved breath.
In this age where miracles were scarce, professional exorcists were pitifully few, but they still existed—and he happened to know a trick or two.
"Demon, the Lord will punish you."
"How naive. It seems you have no intention of talking." Witchcraft Demon chuckled disdainfully, then strode up to the barrier and pressed his palm against it.
Crack!
The barrier the bishop had pinned his hopes on shattered in an instant, and he himself was lifted into the air by Witchcraft Demon.
"Your little bit of magic would struggle against even a third-rate demon. What do you think I am?"
"Ahhh—"
Part of his ethereal soul was ripped away by Witchcraft Demon. The corrosive aura invaded him, making him howl in unbearable agony.
Witchcraft Demon released him, and the bishop crashed