Ch-11 God? What's that?

"You misunderstood. The priest wants to help me exorcise the demon within me."

The ignorant girl tried to defend the priest.

Hearing this, Ryan lowered his head and looked at the innocent girl.

Her face was calm and cold, showing no sign of emotion. There was no point in explaining too much to someone as ordinary and brainwashed as she was.

"Go wait outside. I want to speak to the priest."

He wanted to talk to others, but his power did not allow him to speak quietly. His power was not for quiet conversation; it was for allowing others to communicate with him quietly.

The girl opened her mouth to speak, but under Ryan's oppressive gaze, she lowered her head and fled in panic in less than three seconds.

'So scary! This guy's eyes were even more terrifying than a werewolf's.'

'Father... he should be okay, right?'

There were only two people left in the sealed, secret chamber.

Ryan put a hand in his pocket and slowly extended three fingers.

"Three questions."

"First, where did you learn to deal with werewolves?"

The priest's face changed at the question.

"I have no idea what you're talking about. This is a church. You don't believe in the Lord. Please leave."

The priest's cold, angry voice warned Ryan to leave.

Bang! A gunshot echoed.

The priest, who had just been intimidating, collapsed to the ground, clutching his thigh and screaming in pain.

He looked in horror at the strange black weapon in Ryan's hand, the dark muzzle smoking white. The deadly, dangerous aura made every pore in the priest's body tremble.

"I don't like that answer. I'll give you a chance to reconsider."

Ryan opened the revolver, ejected five bullets and replaced only one.

"You have five chances to answer. Any wrong answer and I pull the trigger."

He smiled faintly, a grin that looked like the devil's in the priest's eyes, no, even more hideous than the vilest devil.

"The first question is, where did you learn how to handle werewolves?"

Ryan knelt before the priest and raised the revolver to press it to his forehead. The dark muzzle was cold.

Faced with imminent death, the priest's mind went blank. In an instant, his forehead was covered in cold sweat as he looked around, desperately trying to think of an answer.

"Three... two..."

Ryan had no patience for wasting time and started a countdown.

"It was a revelation from the Lord! He told me through an oracle how to deal with werewolves."

The panicked priest blurted out, hoping the excuse that fooled the villagers would fool the demon in front of him.

"Is that so?"

Ryan grinned, his two rows of white teeth flashing with an eerie light.

Just as the priest thought he had escaped, a cold sound rang in his ears.

"Four chances left. Will it be this time or the next?"

Ryan still wore that faint smile, but the priest was already scared out of his wits. A puddle of liquid seeped from beneath him.

"Yes, the village chief told me!"

The priest's face was filled with horror.

He had lived a virtuous life, done good deeds, and was the Lord's most devoted follower. Even if he had to die, he didn't deserve to die so miserably.

The thought of his head being blown open by this strange weapon shattered his resolve.

"Why would he tell you?"

Ryan narrowed his eyes. If the village chief was telling the villagers how to deal with werewolves, why was this priest keeping it a secret?

"Because I saw him leaving the village at night and bringing in supplies from outside," the priest admitted, too scared to lie.

'Bringing in supplies from outside? Interesting."

Everyone in the village knew that leaving the village meant facing werewolf attacks. So how could the village leader leave safely? And if he could, why did he keep it a secret?

"Last question."

"How many people did you bring here?"

Ryan looked around the dimly lit room that the priest had clearly used for vile purposes. It wasn't the first time.

"Huh?"

The priest stammered, not remembering how many he had brought. Seeing his hesitation, Ryan lowered the gun and pointed it between the priest's legs.

Bang!

A shot rang out, and the priest's scream sounded like a slaughtered pig.

"You should have picked a better boss. Your god didn't save you, even with a one-in-five chance."

Ryan looked at the bloodied priest and shook his head.

He hadn't done anything wrong; there was only one bullet in the gun. It was the priest's bad luck.

Ryan turned and left. He had once been a Christian himself, but he was a pure egoist. If he believed in anything, it was money and power.

God? What's that?

If such a being existed, why was the world filled with so much suffering? If God's purpose was to make people suffer and seek salvation, then there was no need for God.

This world was already a quagmire of endless suffering; no 'Lord' needed to create more for people to endure.