[Random Mission: Exorcise the Malevolent Spirit and Save the Perron Family—Completed]
[Mission Reward: 5 Points Issued]
[…]
The system notification confirmed what Father Anderson had already sensed.
Bathsheba Sherman had disappeared, and without her presence poisoning the property, the Perron farmhouse gradually returned to normal.
The oppressive sensation of being watched faded from every room, while the cold, damp corners of the house slowly regained their natural temperature.
A malevolent spirit challenged human perception simply by existing; even when no one could see it, every instinct warned that something was hiding nearby.
Now, that disturbing feeling was finally gone.
Only the basement remained cold, though that was perfectly normal for an underground storage area with little ventilation or sunlight.
Half an hour later, Anderson returned to finish the last part of his work.
He no longer carried the Winchester or wore the small field bag across his chest.
A silver crucifix hung from his neck, and a Bible rested in his hands.
The heavily armed exorcist had disappeared.
In his place stood a solemn Catholic priest.
“At least it doesn’t smell as bad anymore.”
Anderson rubbed the side of his nose as he descended the stairs.
Several faint clusters of cold spiritual energy waited in the dim basement, and without Bathsheba’s overwhelming resentment filling the room, the remaining presences were easy to distinguish.
They wanted to leave.
Although Anderson couldn’t yet see their complete forms, his mind automatically interpreted the spiritual traces surrounding them.
There were four souls in total: Mrs.
Walker, her son Rory, the maid who had died on the property, and the young boy who had drowned in the pond.
All four had been victims of Bathsheba’s curse.
“Come forward.”
Anderson stopped in the center of the basement and channeled a small amount of magic into his eyes.
The cold mist shifted, and a woman’s quiet voice emerged from the darkness.
“Yes, Father.”
Four figures gradually appeared before him.
Mrs.
Walker stood closest, still heavyset and dressed in old-fashioned clothing, though the bloodstained knife was no longer in her hands.
One side of her face still carried traces of the damage caused by Anderson’s holy-water-coated punch.
Rory stood beside her, holding his mother’s hand, while the maid and the drowned boy remained close together.
They looked uncertain and frightened, but there was no hostility in their expressions.
Their appearances were still unnatural.
Their eyes and lips were completely black, while thick dark fluid ran slowly down their faces.
Even so, Anderson could no longer sense hatred within them—only exhaustion, sorrow, and relief.
Without Bathsheba controlling them, they had returned to their true nature.
They were no longer attackers, only lost souls trapped in a place they had never chosen to remain.
Anderson looked at Mrs.
Walker’s damaged face and sighed.
“I’m sorry.”
The four spirits stared at him in surprise.
Mrs.
Walker’s dark eyes widened, and tears mixed with the black fluid running down her cheeks.
“She forced me to attack you.”
Anderson pressed his lips together before giving her a small nod.
He opened the Bible and looked at the four spirits gathered before him.
“I’ll help all of you leave this place.”
The Catholic Church possessed prayers for the dead, rites of commendation, and blessings intended to entrust departed souls to God’s mercy.
Anderson had never attempted to use them to release trapped spirits before, but the principle seemed simple enough.
If divine power could drive demons from the living, perhaps it could also guide innocent souls away from the places binding them.
He lowered his head and began reading.
“Merciful Lord, we come before You and ask that You receive these departed souls into Your care.
You are the source of life, the way, the truth, and the light.”
His voice echoed through the basement and carried faintly into the rooms above.
Everyone waiting near the staircase fell silent and listened.
“Forgive their sins, free them from suffering, and break every chain that holds them to this place.
May those who died in fear find peace, and may those who were lost finally find their way.”
The cold darkness surrounding the four spirits began to change.
A soft glow appeared around Mrs.
Walker before spreading to Rory, the maid, and the drowned boy.
Anderson continued reading without interruption.
“May those who were wronged be released from anger, sorrow, and pain.
We entrust them to Your mercy.
Guide them away from darkness and allow them to rest in Your presence.”
As the prayer neared its conclusion, the basement became noticeably brighter.
The weak bulb overhead hadn’t changed, yet a warm light filled the room from an unseen source.
The black fluid covering the spirits began to dissolve.
Their empty eyes regained their human appearance, and the decay slowly faded from their faces.
Their torn, stained clothing became clean and whole as each spirit returned to the appearance they had possessed before death.
Mrs.
Walker no longer looked like a tortured ghost.
She appeared simply as a tired mother holding her son’s hand, while Rory smiled brightly at Anderson.
The maid and the drowned boy stood beside them, their fear finally gone.
“Thank you, Father,” Mrs.
Walker whispered.
“Thank you,” Rory added, and the other two spirits softly repeated the words.
Anderson closed the Bible.
“Amen.”
The four spirits faded into the warm light.
Within seconds, the basement was empty.
Anderson remained still for several moments, staring at the place where they had disappeared.
This was his first time successfully releasing trapped souls through prayer, and the experience left him strangely unsettled, though not in an unpleasant way.
“So the Lord may actually exist.”
After everything he had witnessed, continuing to dismiss that possibility was becoming increasingly difficult.
Holy water worked, blessed symbols carried genuine power, and prayer could both drive away evil and guide the dead toward peace.
Anderson had once considered himself an atheist—or, at the very least, a deeply skeptical man.
Yet some unseen force clearly answered whenever he prayed.
“Why would divine power respond to someone like me?”
He glanced around the empty basement before heading upstairs.
Anderson still didn’t understand the answer, but he decided not to dwell on it.
He had nearly reached the top of the stairs when the system’s voice sounded again.
[…]
[Blessing of the Departed]
[Mrs.
Walker, Rory Walker, the maid, and the drowned boy are grateful for your help.]
[Additional Reward: 3 Points]
[…]
Anderson stopped and looked back toward the basement.
For once, the room contained nothing but old furniture, dust, and peaceful silence.
A faint smile appeared on his face.
He had only wanted to resolve every remaining problem in the farmhouse, never expecting the simple act of mercy to produce another reward.
An hour later, the black Ford F-150 Raptor came to life beneath the night sky.
Its engine rumbled across the quiet property while everyone gathered beside the driver’s door to see Anderson off.
Roger, Carolyn, their daughters, Ed, Lorraine, and Drew had all come outside.
Officer Brad had already left, claiming he needed to return to the station and prepare what would undoubtedly become a very unusual police report.
“Father, are you certain you don’t want to stay?” Ed asked.
“Carolyn has already prepared a room for you.”
“There’s no need,” Anderson replied from the driver’s seat.
“Boston isn’t that far.”
The real reason was that he didn’t want to miss his daily prayer task.
Half a point might not seem significant, but Anderson refused to waste an easy reward.
Before leaving, his attention settled on Lorraine.
The dark supernatural aura surrounding her was still present, and he remained unable to identify its source.
Without knowing where the curse came from, he couldn’t remove it.
Whatever had marked Lorraine was far more powerful than Bathsheba Sherman, which meant confronting it would likely be extremely dangerous.
It also meant the eventual system reward might be enormous.
The danger didn’t concern him.
A powerful enemy was simply a valuable opportunity wearing an unpleasant face.
“Lorraine, keep wearing the crucifix I gave you,” Anderson said.
“Do not remove it, even while sleeping.
If anything unusual happens, call me immediately.”
Lorraine’s hand instinctively closed around the cross beneath her clothing.
She understood the seriousness hidden behind his calm tone and nodded firmly.
“Yes, Father.”
Anderson looked at everyone gathered around the truck and offered them a final smile.
“Goodbye, everyone.”
Roger and Carolyn thanked him once more, while the girls waved from beside their parents.
Anderson shifted into gear and pressed the accelerator.
The Raptor roared forward, its headlights cutting across the dark country road.
Dust rose behind the truck as it disappeared between the trees, while the Warrens and the Perron family remained outside until the sound of the engine finally faded into the distance.
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