Chapter 11: What Is God?

"You've misunderstood! The priest was trying to help me expel the demon inside my body," the naive girl tried to defend the priest.

Rod looked down at the innocent girl with cold, emotionless eyes. There was no point in explaining too much to someone brainwashed by faith.

"Wait outside. I need to have a few words with the priest."

Rod would have preferred to talk things out calmly, but his strength didn't allow it. He had the power not to negotiate peacefully, but to make others negotiate peacefully with him.

The girl opened her mouth as if to say something more, but under Rod's intense, oppressive gaze, she couldn't hold out for more than three seconds before lowering her head and fleeing in a panic.

How terrifying! she thought. His eyes are even scarier than those of the werewolves.

I hope the priest will be okay...

In the closed-off chamber, only Rod and the priest remained.

With one hand in his pocket, Rod raised three fingers slowly.

"Three questions."

"First, where did you learn how to fight the werewolves?"

The priest's face immediately changed.

"I don't know what you're talking about. This is a church, and you are not a follower of the Lord. You need to leave now," the priest said coldly, his face filled with anger as he tried to force Rod out.

Bang!

A gunshot echoed through the room. The priest, who had just been acting so high and mighty, now lay on the ground clutching his leg, writhing in pain and screaming.

His eyes were filled with terror as he stared at the strange black weapon in Rod's hand. The deep, black barrel of the gun was still smoking, radiating a dangerous and lethal aura that sent shivers through the priest's body.

"I don't like that answer. I'll give you another chance to rephrase," Rod said calmly as he opened the revolver, dumping out the five remaining bullets and leaving only one in the chamber.

"You've got five chances to answer. Each time you get it wrong, I'll pull the trigger."

"Let's see if your Lord can protect you."

A faint smile appeared on Rod's face, but to the priest, it looked like the twisted grin of a demon.

No, it was worse than a demon's.

"Let's start again. Where did you learn how to fight the werewolves?"

Rod crouched down in front of the priest, pressing the cold barrel of the revolver against his forehead.

The sensation of cold metal combined with the threat of death left the priest's mind blank. Cold sweat broke out on his forehead as his eyes darted around, trying to figure out how to answer.

"3... 2..."

Rod wasn't willing to wait, so he started counting down.

"It was the Lord's revelation! He gave me the answer through divine prophecy!" the priest blurted out in a panic, hoping that the same excuse that had fooled the gullible villagers would deceive the man before him.

"Is that so?" Rod grinned, flashing his teeth in a way that made the priest's heart freeze.

Just when the priest thought he had managed to escape danger—

Click!

The chilling sound of the revolver's hammer snapping into place echoed in his ears.

"You've still got four chances. Want to guess if it'll be this time or the next?" Rod's smile didn't fade, but the priest's courage shattered completely.

A puddle of liquid spread from beneath the priest as sheer terror overwhelmed him.

"It… it was the village chief who told me!" the priest confessed, his voice trembling with fear.

The priest had always considered himself a pious man, a loyal servant of the Lord. But faced with the horrifying thought of his head being blown apart, all his resolve crumbled.

"Why would the chief tell you that?"

Rod narrowed his eyes. If the village chief knew how to deal with the werewolves, why would he leave the priest to play the role of the holy savior?

"Because I saw him sneaking out of the village at night to bring in supplies from the outside," the priest replied, still shaking.

Bringing in supplies from outside? Now things were getting interesting.

Everyone in the village believed that leaving meant being attacked by werewolves. So how was the village chief able to leave safely?

And if the chief could leave the village, why was he doing it so secretly?

"Last question."

"How many people have you brought into this room?"

Rod looked around the dimly lit chamber, clearly a place the priest used to satisfy his twisted desires. This wasn't his first time doing something like this.

"Huh?"

The priest was dumbfounded. How could he possibly remember how many people he had lured into this room?

Seeing the priest hesitate, Rod lowered his revolver, aiming between the priest's legs.

Bang!

The priest's scream was bloodcurdling, like the squeal of a pig being slaughtered.

"When choosing a higher power, you should pick one that's a bit more reliable. With a one-in-five chance, and you still got unlucky... Seems like your Lord isn't much help after all," Rod muttered, shaking his head at the bleeding priest.

He hadn't rigged the revolver. There really had been only one bullet in the gun. The priest's bad luck had sealed his fate.

Rod turned and walked away.

The body Rod had inherited belonged to a Christian, but Rod himself was a pure pragmatist. If he had to believe in something, it would be money and power.

As for God?

What even was that?

If such a thing really existed, why would there still be so much suffering in the world?

If God's purpose was to let humanity endure pain in order to find salvation, then there was even less reason for His existence.

This world was already a cesspool of endless suffering.

There was no need for a so-called Lord to create even more misery.