SUP Chapter 15: Science Giants! Where’s My Coffin Lid?

The facts proved that, in a pinch, life finds a way. Feeling threatened, Ian devised a solution.

At this moment, he was putting it into action.

Not anything inappropriate, of course.

"Get off!" the evil spirit roared, writhing in agony. It had no choice, as Ian had opened his mouth and was ferociously biting its neck.

Really biting!

Swallowing it down!

"Shut up!" Ian grabbed the nun spirit’s deformed lips with one hand. With only five minutes, he had to consume a spirit larger than himself.

A daunting task.

But, since they were both souls, he didn’t worry about overeating. For picky Ian, though, the spirit’s taste was far from pleasant.

"Eat, eat, eat! You nasty ghost!" Ian mimicked the spirit’s earlier taunt, proving his faith in Meyer and Joule’s law of energy conservation was spot-on.

Indeed.

There was some relativistic weight to it. If the spirit could devour him, he could devour it. The system’s feedback confirmed he was on the right track.

[Mental: 2.9 → 3.1]

Ian’s attributes rose.

The spirit’s energy was flowing into him. Perhaps the [Mental] attribute tied to soul strength, though Ian hadn’t fully grasped what his four-dimensional attributes influenced.

Like why, despite his brilliant counterstrategy, his [Intelligence] didn’t budge. Maybe it wasn’t tied to wisdom after all?

Chomp, chomp.

Normally, Ian ate quietly, but now, wolfing down the spirit, table manners were the last thing on his mind.

The nun spirit probably didn’t care either.

[Negative Status: Soul Corruption]

Devouring the spirit wasn’t without cost. A new negative status appeared above Ian’s [Anger Value] bar, but for a [Berserker], this was no concern.

He’d already leveled up.

He’d learn a new occupation skill later; this negative status might even be beneficial. Not only did Ian not stop, but after adjusting to the taste, he sped up.

"No!!!" The spirit thrashed wildly but was pinned down by Ian. It had never encountered this, always the devourer, now being devoured?

This wasn’t magical!

It defied the universe’s rules!

Meanwhile, in the real world, Constantine climbed from the rubble.

"Why’d you bring a kid here?" he roared at his companion, rushing to Ian, who was in a "stupor."

"Damn it, Constantine! You said you were dying, not that a spirit was killing you! I thought you were doing another insane experiment!" Charles, crawling out, was filled with regret.

"Get me the holy water!" Constantine knew now wasn’t the time for blame. He tore open the "stupored" boy’s shirt, revealing skin graying visibly.

Black vein-like patterns emerged on Ian’s chest.

Signs his body was being poisoned by the spirit’s "power."

"Charles! Hold him down! I’m starting the exorcism!" Constantine grabbed the water bottle from his companion, trying to remove the ancient pendant from Ian’s chest.

"Hiss!" His hand barely touched it before recoiling, as if burned by a hot iron, leaving a scorched mark.

"What the hell is this?" Constantine, alarmed, couldn’t identify the pendant and had no time to study it.

"Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus!"

"Omnis satanica potestas!"

"Omnis incursio infernalis adversarii!"

Constantine splashed third-hand holy water on Ian, chanting Latin exorcism verses with solemn, rhythmic cadence.

Yet, though Ian’s body steamed with white vapor upon contact, the spirit didn’t emerge. Constantine raised his voice, intensifying the chant.

"This guy’s expression..." Sweat beaded on his forehead, unease growing. He saw Ian’s lips curling upward! A kid smiling? Constantine preferred to believe it was the demon’s mockery.

After all, the spirit should be devouring the boy’s soul, possessing his body, so any expression must be demonic!

"Humiliare sub potenti manu Dei,"

"Contremisce et effuge,"

"Ab insidiis diaboli, libera nos, Domine!"

Feeling dread, Constantine switched exorcism methods, invoking heaven’s power. He was adept in various magical schools, but for some reason, this new chant failed too.

Though holy light bloomed and black smoke poured from Ian’s body, the spirit remained unextracted, its resilience beyond Constantine’s imagination.

This wasn’t normal.

In his exorcism career, such cases were rare. As a master of mortal magic, despite lacking faith, his skill, especially in exorcism, surpassed most priests and practitioners.

"Something’s wrong! How’s it resisting so long? A minor hell minion shouldn’t be this strong!" Constantine’s spine chilled, his mind racing with wild theories.

What kind of demon could withstand his exorcism?

Was this a trap targeting him? A super-demon scheming to drag his already damned soul closer to ruin through the boy’s soul?

Fear and unease gripped Constantine.

Then, "Aaaahhh!!!!"

A pained wail filled the room.

The spirit’s voice.

"I’ll be back! I’ll have my revenge!"

The spirit finally emerged from Ian’s body, not as if exorcised but fleeing in a panicked, disheveled rush. Braving Constantine’s holy water, it smoked and writhed in agony to escape, like a violated girl fleeing desperately.

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