Chapter 270: Lurking Danger

The intricate patterns and their corresponding script resonated with a piece of knowledge in York's mind.

"This script seems to be commonly used by a cult in the Middle Ages."

York reminisced while settling into his usual seat.

"What was it called?"

He flipped the sculpted hand over, closely examining the inscribed patterns and script, as the relevant knowledge naturally surfaced in his mind.

"Druids..."

York narrowed his eyes.

The Druidic faith in the history of this parallel world was a well-known religion during the medieval era.

However, its core was completely eradicated in a war, leaving only the riffraff.

According to recorded history in this parallel world, York clearly remembered that the most nefarious act of this religion was human sacrifice...

"Human sacrifice, huh."

York placed the sculpted hand in front of him and used telekinesis to grab a burning candle from the nearby candlestick.

"According to the setup, light the candle and then grasp the sculpted hand."

Following the advice previously given by Haley, the Little Red Riding Hood, York supported the sculpted hand with his left and firmly grasped it with his right.

The sculpted hand's open posture perfectly mimicked a handshake.

"So, what comes next is..."

York directly addressed the void in front of him, where stood a podium and a high table, adorned with an image of Jesus.

"Respond to me!"

In that moment, York felt a pulling force materialize out of nowhere, directly connecting to his consciousness under his gaze.

Suddenly, everything around him seemed to be drenched in ink, turning pitch black, devoid of any light.

York stared into the darkness, unphased, merely finding it odd.

He knew this meant he had been pulled into the realm of spirits he had visited before, a realm not of reality, where spirits dwell.

"But why? Shouldn't spirits appear just by holding the sculpted hand and saying 'respond to me'?"

York paused, holding the sculpted hand, as a certain expectation in his mind crumbled.

"Too bad, seems like this sculpted hand's summoning function is useless to me. I had thought of capturing a few evil spirits to throw into the toy house for some fun..."

Sensing something lurking in the depths of the darkness, yet too fearful to approach, York felt a tinge of disappointment, disillusioned by the sculpted hand's ineffectiveness.

"Is that all? No, there seems to be a ninety-second time limit. Might as well wait a bit longer."

However, even after ninety seconds passed, and two minutes went by, no spirits appeared before York, leaving everything eerily quiet.

"Useless thing, no good at all."

York, surrounded by an empty, pitch-black space, couldn't help but mutter to himself before letting go of the hand.

The moment he released the sculpted hand, the surrounding darkness dissipated, revealing reality once more.

Nothing had changed, except two minutes had passed.

York looked at the sculpted hand before him, his face showing a hint of speechlessness.

He had hoped the sculpted hand would bring about some change, allowing him to keep this ominous item as a part of his basement collection.

But it was all for naught.

Of course, York also understood that it might just be ineffective on him, considering his body had been sanctified to a point where he was invulnerable to all evil.

This made sense; ever since becoming a clergyman, he hadn't fallen ill in a long time.

Even in the presence of evil spirits, these beings would react with fear or avoidance due to his presence.

"Since it's of no use to me..."

York stared at the sculpted hand, a spirit-summoning circle appeared under his feet, attempting to learn more through necromancy.

He continued to probe for information contained within the sculpted hand, desiring to thoroughly understand it before considering it for his collection.

Feeling a certain pull from the sculpted hand, York's consciousness followed this force.

In an instant, York's eyes flickered with fragments of information, and his perspective shifted.

Before him appeared an intricate network of underground passages.

"Typical of rats, always lurking in such dark, identical places."

York, like an invisible observer, casually picked a direction and walked slowly.

In an instant, the scene changed again due to the sculpted hand's information fragments.

York found himself in a stone chamber resembling a sacrificial altar.

A baby, wrapped in white cloth, lay on the altar.

Below the altar stood a group of individuals in black hooded robes, each emanating a strange aura.

In front of these people was the sculpted hand, along with several candles arranged in a totemic pattern.

"Definitely the Druids."

York observed the scene like a bystander, focusing on the elderly woman at the forefront, narrowing his eyes.

The old woman muttered incantations, all steeped in the cult's doctrine.

According to her words, the child was to be offered as a sacrifice to a demon.

York sighed at the sight of the baby, realizing this space was merely a playback of past events, meaning the deed had already been done.

As information fragments shattered one by one, the space shifted again before York.

Most scenes were related to the locations where the sculpted hand was placed, offering little value, until the final fragment fell.

York reappeared inside a building.

However, things began to change here.

He saw a man wearing a white rubber mask and a mechanic's jumpsuit, wielding a fruit knife, moving stealthily through corridors and offices.

Assassinating one white-uniformed person after another.

Like an unseen ghost, even when approaching his victims, he remained undetected, as if cloaked in invisibility.

This made his task of taking lives incredibly easy with just a simple stab.

A real massacre, with the masked man's killing spree unstoppable.

But the constantly changing murder scenes made York pause, recalling a long-lost memory.

If one is familiar with American cinema, then the identity of one serial killer cannot be ignored.

Michael Myers, a classic figure in the history of American cinema and a source of childhood nightmares for many, known as the embodiment of evil.

Nicknamed "Uncle Mike" by netizens, he became the embodiment of evil due to his nanny being a cult member, turning into a killing machine with an undying body, immense strength, and stealth abilities.

His iconic white mask identified him immediately to York upon seeing the masked man.

"Could it be that this parallel world also has Uncle Mike? And what about his equally infamous counterparts like Jason from Crystal Lake, Freddy from Elm Street, or Leatherface from Texas Chainsaw Massacre?"

Watching Michael effortlessly kill another, York's mouth twitched.

However, he now understood the initial information fragment's context.

"The baby placed on the altar was Michael."

As the scene shifted once more, York watched Michael with a frown, noticing no signs of demonic possession on him.

"However, there's a hint of demonic essence, but not much."

Recalling information about Michael, York concluded that in this world, Michael wasn't possessed by a demon but rather corrupted by demonic power.

Thus, he indeed possessed demonic power, but only enough to sustain his undying body and immense strength, along with invisibility and teleportation effects.

"So, the sculpted hand is closely related to this serial killer."

York watched as Michael brutally killed another person with a fruit knife,

 shaking his head in disapproval.

Before the information fragments dissipated, he surveyed the building to understand why it was targeted by a serial killer like Michael.

Turns out, the building was a cult's hideout.

Meaning, Michael's victims were all cult members.

"Interesting, you change your killing targets."

Watching Michael ruthlessly slaughter everyone in the building before leaving, York witnessed the last fragment of information vanish, and all scenes disappeared.

"In the movies, wasn't he always after his sister?"

York looked at the now irrelevant sculpted hand, recalling memories from his past life.

Then, his pupils dilated as he suddenly remembered the sister's name:

"Wasn't his sister named Laurie..."

Connecting the dots, York thought of an old believer and her name.

"Laurie Strode," York muttered to himself.

"What a coincidence, so the serial killer after Mrs. Laurie is you, Uncle Mike. I should've realized sooner."

York marveled at the twist of fate. He had heard rumors about Mrs. Laurie but had never connected them to Michael, focusing instead on Michael's own story.

"Tonight is Halloween, your night of killing. You wouldn't come here, would you, Uncle Mike?"

Despite his musings, York was somewhat expectant.

Every time he encountered something familiar, he harbored hope.

In his eyes, Michael's undying ability was formidable in the past life but seemed insignificant now.

"Just need to deplete the demonic power in him, and this so-called serial killer will be finished."

"Undying simply means not enough attempts. Kill him a hundred, a thousand times, and eventually, he'll die for good, once and for all."

York's thoughts wandered. He wasn't concerned about Michael finding this place because, from the movies, Michael and Laurie shared a blood attraction.

Like two magnets, no matter the distance, they seemed connected by an invisible line.

"Let's think about what character to dress up as tonight. Iron Man? Spider-Man? Superman with his underwear on the outside?"

Holding the now useless sculpted hand, York headed to his personal rest area.

Behind him, the candle automatically floated back to its place.

Having spent many years in this parallel world and at Pluto Church, he had experienced several Halloweens and occasionally dressed up as various characters.

He believed in participating in festivities and refused to be restrained by his clerical status. Instead, he saw himself as just another human.

Soft footsteps approached from outside.

York sensed through the spatial map that the front yard of Pluto Church, along with the street and open space, had gradually lit up.

The clergy, staff, residents, and believers of Pluto Church had transformed the Halloween activity area into something else entirely.

The area was divided into various themes.

Some were thrilling, others warm and bright, and some dreamlike.

Different themes meant different snacks and foods.

And the central point of these themes was Pluto Church.

The combination of all these elements blended well together.

Especially since the church's architecture often featured in thriller and horror movies, making it a fitting centerpiece.

"Indeed, Halloween's atmosphere is best felt at night."

York saw families joining the activity area.

Outside was bustling.

Taking one family as an example: the mother dressed as Snow White, the father as a prince, and their jubilant child in a Little Red Riding Hood costume.

Beyond these normal costumes, some families dressed in more terrifying demon makeup.

However, York's gaze inadvertently settled on the recently arrived Mrs. Laurie, and he decided to pull out a costume from a long-unused box.

"Let's cosplay as Superman with his underwear on the outside, the justice-bringer of the Justice League."

"..."

Halloween was at its peak.

The entire activity area was filled with joy and excitement.

Laughter, cheers, and music mingled together.

Only Eileen looked somewhat distracted, gazing outside.

Since the Father came out with Mr. John, she wondered what they were up to.

"Eileen!"

Voices called out, and hands grasped hers from both sides.

Eileen was startled back to reality and looked down.

"Let's go play!"

Her hands were held by two princess-dressed little girls with braided hair.

Eileen recognized the children and instinctively looked ahead.

Mrs. Laurie stood there, smiling at her.

"There are so many fun things over there!"

Pulled by Mrs. Laurie's daughters, Eileen couldn't help but smile, setting aside her distractions.

"Okay."

She let the girls lead her deeper into the festivities...

...

The Halloween event organized by Pluto Church was lively and had everything.

But on the outskirts, a Superman with his underwear on the outside and a Batman in a black tight suit were observing the dimly lit driveway.

"Father, will he come?"

The steady voice came from Batman, who looked at Superman with a hint of helplessness in his eyes.

Honestly, wearing this tight suit was uncomfortable.

He even wondered where the Father had gotten these costumes.

"He will. Tonight is Halloween night; he's bound to come," York stood with his hands on his hips, speaking with conviction.

"As champions of justice, we must protect this place."

"Yes, Father."

John Wick nodded in agreement, having spent the most comfortable days of his life in the church.

He wouldn't let anyone disturb his peace.

John Wick silently checked his rifle, especially the silencer attached to the barrel.

The HK416 automatic rifle, weighing 3.49 kg, with a height of 240 mm, a total length of 893 mm, and a 5.56 mm caliber, held thirty rounds.

"Father, is he strong?"

John Wick asked after checking his equipment, knowing they were about to face an enemy with undying abilities, another encounter with a supernatural creature following the previous dark monster.

"John." York smiled.

"Without his undying ability, he's just a normal person. As long as it's a normal person, lethal injuries cannot be ignored. Undying simply means he can come back to life over time after sustaining fatal injuries."

"I understand, Father." John Wick's face remained calm.

"I'll try my best."

Hearing this, York's smile remained, patting John Wick on the shoulder.

"Don't worry, you're much stronger than him."

John Wick nodded silently.

"Let's go, get in the car and look around. To save time, he'll probably drive here. When he does, we'll hit him head-on. I'll drive, you handle the combat."

"Okay, Father."

"..."

Thus, a modified muscle pickup truck carrying a Superman and an armed Batman began to patrol around Pluto Church, searching for the serial killer.

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