Resistance

This must be a note the Exorcist wrote to himself... The mysterious power here seemed to have affected his memory, so he wrote down the important things to keep from forgetting them.

Gilan rubbed the slip of paper, his eyes thoughtful.

It seemed this village had been tainted by some evil force. Then someone hired an Exorcist to fight it, but it appeared he hadn't succeeded...

After checking his equipment and belongings, he looked past the livestock shed toward the end of the path.

There's an important piece of information on the note. Something the Exorcist desperately wanted is hidden in the Scribe's basement.

Gilan felt tempted.

Having witnessed so many mysterious and supernatural things, he knew that item was anything but ordinary. If he could get his hands on it, it would be a tremendous help in his current situation.

But Gilan was wholly unfamiliar with the village, and he had no idea where the Scribe lived.

"I'll try looking for it."

Gilan murmured and picked up his bundle.

But at that moment, an air-raid siren suddenly blared, piercing the heavens:

Woooo—woooo—woooo—

Gilan jumped in fright. The piercing noise twisted his face in pain, and he crouched down, covering his ears.

What's going on?!

He was deeply alarmed. The village's original deathly silence had been shattered by the sudden air-raid siren.

Before he could make sense of it, Gilan noticed specks of static appearing in his field of vision.

He struggled to raise his head and look around, only to realize in shock that there was nothing wrong with his eyes. The scenery around him had changed drastically along with the siren—like a television image suffering signal interference, it flickered constantly, with black vertical bars even appearing across it.

Iridescent colors flashed in Gilan's eyes, and a powerful intuition suddenly rose within him.

He was about to leave the world of the film.

His consciousness blurred once more.

When he came to again and his vision refocused, Gilan saw the screen not far ahead.

Under the dim glow of the Gas Lamp, the movie image had abruptly stopped, turning into a black background filled with static.

A group of police officers and epidemic prevention personnel stood backlit before the projector, staring intently at the seated prisoners.

I'm back in reality...

Gilan's heart tightened as he quietly observed his surroundings from the corner of his eye.

He discovered that all the other prisoners were bound to their chairs, twitching and writhing. Incomprehensible, chilling howls and screams spilled from their mouths, as though they were suffering inhuman torment.

Beside him sat the long-haired, stubbled man Gilan had killed with his own hands. The man lay limp in his chair, head drooping, clearly no longer breathing.

These people must have died in the movie, killed by those Monsters in the forest. It looked like their bodies in reality were affected accordingly!

Gilan thought.

Then he suddenly noticed that the police superintendent standing at the front before the projector was looking at him with a scrutinizing gaze.

That's right! All these prisoners are showing painful reactions. I'm the only one who doesn't fit in—of course I'd arouse suspicion!

Gilan's thoughts raced, and he quickly came up with a plan.

"Argh!"

A suppressed scream escaped his throat. He suddenly jerked his body, then began convulsing as though electrocuted.

Though his hands and feet were tied to the chair with ropes, his violent struggles still made its legs scrape and slam against the floor with harsh clattering sounds.

Gilan threw back his head, veins bulging as his eyes rolled white. His blond hair was disheveled, making him look like he was having an epileptic seizure.

Clang!

He toppled sideways to the floor along with the chair!

Yet he continued convulsing without pause!

The middle-aged superintendent, who had been staring at Gilan, frowned at the sight.

Looks like I guessed wrong... This guy merely held out longer than the others. The superintendent thought. What a pity. If someone could have endured watching the entire film, the Purification Department would surely be delighted. After all, their research on this new reel hasn't made any progress whatsoever.

He swept his gaze around the screening room again. Some prisoners were dead, while others had gone mad.

The superintendent raised a hand and made another gesture, issuing an order:

"Take them away. Burn and bury them all together."

"Yes, sir."

The personnel in oversized protective suits behind him answered in unison, then quickly strode toward the prisoners.

Gilan also sensed two people approaching him.

His body was still convulsing with effort, but his mind was racing as he considered how to break out of this situation.

What do I do next?

Beneath his disheveled blond hair, his eyes were as sharp as a hawk's.

Even if I take these two down while they're off guard, I'd still have to face the other officers' pistols. And my leg is wounded by a bullet—I can't escape at all...

The scent of death hung over him, making Gilan taste despair once again.

But just then, iridescent colors flooded his vision.

Gilan froze.

Because he suddenly saw that the iridescent colors seemed to contain something—

The Double-Barreled Shotgun, shield, and leather bundle he had obtained in the movie!

I can actually bring them out!

Gilan's eyes lit up, and boundless hope immediately surged within him.

That hope was like a basin of gasoline, feeding the already-burning desire to survive until it blazed even fiercer!

At that moment, one epidemic prevention worker reached out and pinned down the convulsing Gilan, while another deftly untied the ropes binding him.

Gilan made no rash move throughout the process, waiting until he had completely regained his mobility.

"Fuck you!"

Without warning, Gilan sprang up and drove an elbow into the face of the epidemic prevention worker closest to him.

The man cried out in pain as he was hit, his head snapping back.

"You! How did you?!" The other man was stunned by the sudden turn of events and was briefly at a loss. A muffled cry of shock came from behind his thick mask.

But what answered him were two pitch-black barrels.

Seeing the Double-Barreled Shotgun suddenly appear in the blond prisoner's hands, along with the savage smile on his face, the man's eyes widened behind his goggles, filled with confusion and terror.

Boom!!

The deafening gunshot echoed through the sealed screening room.

A flash of flame erupted. The epidemic prevention worker's head exploded on the spot, while dense pellets shredded his chest and abdomen into a bloody pulp. The powerful impact sent his entire body flying several meters before he slammed to the floor like a rag doll.

"Dammit! Dammit! Why is he fine?! And where did that shotgun in his hands come from?!"

This chain of unexpected events happened too quickly, leaving every police officer and epidemic prevention worker in the screening room dumbstruck.

The middle-aged superintendent reacted the fastest. He hurriedly ducked behind the projector table, pulled the Luger Pistol from his waist, and barked:

"Everyone, combat positions! Return fire!"

The officers had all received professional training and possessed the necessary discipline.

They immediately snapped out of it, obeyed their superior's order, drew their pistols, and fired at the blond prisoner.

Bang! Bang bang bang bang!

In an instant, muzzle flashes flickered throughout the screening room, and gunshots boomed like thunder.

The glowing trails of bullets streaked through the air like lines of gold.

Yet every bullet struck a thick steel plate, ringing out with clear clanks and spraying sparks.

The middle-aged superintendent saw the blond prisoner hiding behind a triangular shield, and his pupils contracted sharply.

But he quickly realized that it was likely an item the prisoner had obtained from the movie, and he could not help feeling delighted.

"I never expected that only the second round of experiments using death-row prisoners would bring me such a huge surprise."

The superintendent narrowed his eyes.

He could already see the Purification Department above awarding him a medal for this, followed by an audience with the commander and a promotion to high office.

"Take him alive! Take him alive!"

Veins bulged on the middle-aged superintendent's forehead as he roared.

But just then, an inconspicuous brown iron kettle flew out from behind the triangular shield and rolled clattering to the superintendent's feet.

He froze for a moment, then his expression changed drastically.

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