Chapter 299: The End

"Let's go! Continue to the barracks!"

With the manpower acquired from the police station, Marcos and Makarov and their team could control a larger area. Their reach extended like limbs, following the leads all the way to the barracks.

Compared to the police station, the operation at the barracks was executed with greater decisiveness and speed. The first to be controlled were the managers of the barracks. Once confirmed as normal through identification, they were ordered to command the barracks personnel to divide everyone into sections, awaiting inspection by the janitors.

Those who resisted orders, spread rumors, or otherwise caused chaos and incited dissent were shown no mercy!

At this time, the effect of the holy water was greatly amplified.

Following Makarov's example, Marcos and other janitors took sufficient bottles of holy water and enough manpower to their designated areas. With the holy water, the inspection process was straightforward. Before dispersing, they even demonstrated by dropping holy water on their own foreheads to verify their status before proceeding to test others.

Throughout the process, there was an iron-blooded decisiveness, with no hesitation or pause, which greatly pleased York, who observed everything from a God's-eye view. People like this, once ordained, generally turned out to be exceptional clergy, less susceptible to demonic deception.

York leaned back, his hands behind his head and eyes on the ceiling, as if seeing through it, his pupils reflecting myriad scenes. He smiled faintly, "It seems I've struck gold..."

Clearly, the actions of Makarov and Marcos were effective. The inspection at the barracks proceeded even faster than at the police station, with everyone confirmed as normal. Marcos and Makarov exchanged a relieved glance. Now the situation was truly under control. As long as the bureaucratic machinery was in their hands, mere spirits, even if infected, could not stir up much trouble.

In the past, isolation was practiced to prevent any contact with rotspawn-infected material to avoid further infection. Then, each individual would be scrutinized to differentiate truth from lies and pinpoint the rotspawn.

This was a formidable task because it was difficult to distinguish between spirits and normal people. Even if a spirit was identified, isolation or elimination were the only options.

Now, with the holy water for easy identification of spirits and a priest to purify them, the entire process could be described with one phrase: smooth sailing. It was like a rusty mechanism had been lubricated, propelling the wheels to race forward non-stop.

Having gained control of strategic locations like the police station and barracks, Marcos and his team's pace accelerated.

"Let's go to Krosh Mozoni's house!" Marcos led a team of armed individuals to the next location.

Krosh Mozoni's house.

This was information obtained from the infected police officer. Identifying a rotspawn infection was straightforward:

1. Direct contact with rotspawn.

2. Contact with items contaminated by rotspawn, such as clothing or shoes.

3. Violation of one of the seven guidelines.

Rotspawn infection doesn't cause amnesia; it controls thoughts. Upon interrogation, it was revealed that the infected police officer had touched a dirty piece of clothing at Krosh Mozoni's house, which was the only time he recalled contacting something unusual. He initially thought it was just Mozoni's work clothes, as Mozoni was a mechanic.

This was undoubtedly a lead. Marcos and Makarov and their team did not slow down, soon arriving at Krosh Mozoni's house—a plain villa with no distinguishing features, a short front yard fenced with elegant railings, and a nameplate bearing Krosh Mozoni's name.

"Alert!"

Everyone instantly surrounded the villa. Makarov nodded, taking a pistol passed to him. Even though he was now a priest with significant powers, he remembered the bishop's words: "If you have tools that can save strength, use them first. When I started out, I did the same, as some demons are cunning and will try to drain your power..."

Marcos, also holding a pistol, declared coldly, "I'll go in first."

Everyone nodded silently, acknowledging his lead. In janitor groups, those closest to danger were always the leaders, the oldest and most experienced. No one survived past their fifties, all dying in battles of wits against rotspawn.

After everyone was in position, Marcos was the first to charge in, followed by Makarov, with the younger janitors and soldiers behind them.

Bang!

Marcos kicked in the door, gun at the ready.

No immediate danger was apparent, just a middle-aged man attempting to escape through a window.

Just an ordinary person, trying to flee after seeing the forces outside.

"Stop!"

Marcos shouted, decisively identifying him as an infected spirit, and shot.

His skills in handling guns and physical combat were top-notch. Even though age was catching up with him, in his youth, not even four or five men could get close.

Bang, bang!

Two shots rang out, both bullets

 hitting the man's shoulders. This was intended to incapacitate without killing, affecting his movement while leaving a trail of blood for tracking.

Ah!

Krosh Mozoni screamed in pain, his movements halted as he fell from the window.

Marcos rushed to the window, agile despite his age, more nimble than some younger men. He saw Mozoni clutching his shoulder, limping towards the right direction, while soldiers and police officers who had surrounded the villa were charging towards him.

"Don't get close!"

Marcos shouted again, "Aim for the legs! Limit his movement!"

Bang, bang! More shots fired, hitting Mozoni's legs.

He ultimately fell to the ground, writhing and screaming, a chilling sight that instilled fear in the hearts of the encircling soldiers and officers. The scene resembled something out of a horror movie, like encountering a hanging body in a parking lot at night, deeply unsettling.

"Make way!"

But for Marcos, Makarov, and the seasoned janitors, this was nothing. They had seen far worse in their battles against rotspawn, like infected spirits slaughtering their own families, hanging dripping organs from the roof to sway in the wind...

So, this was nothing.

Still leading, Marcos stopped about a meter from Mozoni. Until now, he never let down his guard; he had seen janitors fall in action before, like Michael Henney, who died on the way to confirm a rotspawn incident at Amara Town.

Caution was never excessive.

Marcos, watching Mozoni crawl forward trying to touch him, calmly took out the remaining holy water from his bag.

"Your world will never return, the sun will eventually rise..."

Marcos, as if speaking to the rotspawn behind him, pulled the stopper from the holy water bottle and splashed it onto the crawling Mozoni.

Ah ah ah ah ah!

Mozoni immediately smoked from the holy water.

"Confirmed, Krosh Mozoni is a spirit," Marcos announced loudly to the onlookers.

Makarov stepped forward to perform the purification. With the divine power manifested, Mozoni was finally restored to normal.

"Doctor!"

Seeing Makarov nod, Marcos's icy expression melted away, and he quickly called out.

"Here..."

A few somewhat panicked doctors came forward to tend to Mozoni's injuries.

"Any issues?"

"No, with timely treatment, there will be no lasting impact on mobility."

Reassured by the doctors, Marcos holstered his pistol, relieved. His cold demeanor was reserved only for spirits, rotspawn, and demons, not his own kind.

"It's time to be on full alert, Marcos," Makarov whispered.

"As it should be."

Marcos nodded, calling over a few heads of local authorities to start broadcasting.

Full alert.

Everyone must stay indoors, no exceptions.

Anyone seen outside would be treated as a spirit, with all the consequences that entail.

This was the advantage of having many people and being armed: they could forcefully control the entire town.

Through information provided by Mozoni, Marcos, Makarov, and their team quickly traced the source to the home of Medirick Mandler.

According to Mozoni, the contaminated clothing was something Medirick Mandler had left at his shop after getting his car repaired because Mandler was a major client. Seeing the clothes were dirty, he had planned to take them home, clean them, and return them to Mandler. But all day, his mind was filled with noise...

Medirick Mandler.

In a villa even more luxurious than most, the sound of several flashbangs went off.

Pop, pop!

A group of fierce janitors stormed in.

With Makarov not sparing any divine power, he forcibly subdued Medirick Mandler, his wife, and daughter. The family portrait hanging in the living room was missing two elders and an eldest son.

"Where are they!" Marcos demanded from a now-purified Medirick Mandler, his voice stern.

Mandler, with a pained and tearful expression, seemed to recall his actions, hesitantly pointing towards the basement.

"The basement."

Then Mandler collapsed to the floor, covering his pained face.

"My God, what have I done..." he murmured, his voice trembling.

Marcos and Makarov exchanged glances before leading their team to open the basement door.

Upon opening, a heavy stench immediately filled the air.

Some behind them couldn't stand it and began to vomit on the spot, spreading the foul smell throughout the building.

Only Marcos and the more experienced janitors, covering their noses and mouths with cloth, braved the stench, descending the long, dark staircase into the abyss-like basement.

Their footsteps broke the silence.

When they reached the bottom and turned on the specially modified lighting, they finally saw the true face of the rotspawn.

"Damn, just as I thought," a janitor muttered under his breath.

It was a gruesome scene.

At the far end of the basement lay a grotesquely swollen body, bloated as if soaked in water for days, oozing vile fluids continuously. The features were indiscernible, but everyone knew this was Medirick Mandler's eldest son, Laive Mandler.

But the source of the stench wasn't just from him; it was also from other things, which added to the repulsiveness.

Scattered all around were chunks of flesh, organs, and bones that jarred everyone's nerves.

Some intestines were trailing into Laive Mandler's mouth, and beside him lay two fairly intact skulls, easily identifiable.

They were the heads of two elderly people.

Marcos, with icy eyes, stared at Laive Mandler, squeezing a family portrait so hard that his veins bulged.

"Truly disgusting," he stated coldly.

Cackling!

Though Laive Mandler's features were gone, and his mouth did not move, he still emitted a chilling sound, intensifying the malevolence in the air.

"Disgusting? No, this is art. Look at my grandparents, how beautiful they are…"

Marcos's face remained expressionless as he waved his hand.

"Any janitor below level two, leave."

The younger janitors, already unnerved by the voice and rapidly losing their composure, felt a sense of relief and quickly exited.

"Cackling, so will you kill me?" Laive Mandler's mouth seemed to move.

Marcos did not respond directly but recited three guidelines as if teaching the remaining janitors.

"One of the seven guidelines: ④ Do not harm them. ⑥ Do not kill them with firearms (instant possession or death may occur). ⑦ Do not fear death."

This was accompanied by Laive Mandler's laughter and other words meant to provoke and unsettle.

But Marcos ignored Laive Mandler's words and expression, continuing to speak.

"Now I add, the Janitor's Resolution: ① Upon seeing rotspawn, purify immediately…"

Makarov stepped forward, already prepared.

The basement began to fill with a certain power.

Laive Mandler's voice changed, a mix of surprise and fear:

"Holy power?"

He tried to speak further.

But Makarov's powerful voice drowned out everything as he held up the Bible, releasing the stored divine power in one breath.

"Lord, by your boundless mercy, save the souls here, free them from the shackles of sin. Let the holy light cleanse all defilement, so this place of suffering may once again radiate with sacred light…"

A beam of holy light appeared, illuminating the entire basement.

Laive Mandler's body emitted streams of black smoke, screaming inhumanly, causing anyone listening to feel their sanity slipping.

The seed within him turned to ash on the spot.

And Laive Mandler, as the rotspawn, disintegrated under the light, turning into an unrecognizable pool of liquid before everyone's eyes.

A few seconds later, calm returned.

Makarov exhaled deeply, feeling weak all over.

Just then, he heard the bishop's voice.

"Well done, Makarov."

"Bishop?" Makarov's eyes widened as he instinctively looked around.

He saw that Marcos and other colleagues were also looking around in surprise.

"This…"

Makarov looked at Marcos.

"You too…"

Hearing this, Marcos, understanding from Makarov's expression, nodded.

"I heard the bishop's voice."

Marcos spoke casually, seemingly unfazed as he holstered his pistol.

"The bishop said I did well and will give me a baptism when we return."

Marcos was very calm.

"I will finally become a true clergyman…"

However, Makarov shook his head, placing the Bible back into his bag as if it were a precious treasure.

He wouldn't mention that he noticed Marcos's hand trembling when he fired the gun…

"Let's go! Let the others clean up."

Not allowing his colleagues to celebrate for long, Marcos resumed his usual demeanor, squeezing through the gap among his peers and quickly walked out.

"This…"

This left the group of janitors exchanging glances.

Seeing this, Makarov also took the opportunity to squeeze through the gap and head upstairs.

But he didn't forget to drop a comment.

"Don't be fooled by Marcos looking untroubled; he's probably outside cheering right now."

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