Exorcist of the American Nightmares

The glowing figure was none other than York's Divine Incarnation, left behind at the cost of ten attribute points after his usage. This incarnation allowed York to see through its eyes as if it were his own body.

He only had eyes for the small figure slowly moving towards the darkness ahead—Marin. It was her prayer, and the type of devotion only he could see, that had compelled York to step out and follow her.

The girl seemed truly upset today, her gait and posture revealing her mood.

After walking on a path made of crushed stone and cement for a while, York looked up to see a small clearing appear in front of him.

It was a modest farm, a cluster of wooden buildings that formed a homely sight. In the darkness, the lights from these buildings stood out starkly.

As Marin reached this spot, she started running towards the source of the light.

"It seems this is her home, a small farm," York noted as he instinctively scanned the surroundings.

He began to connect with other Divine Incarnations linked to nearby churches. The only sensation was that of many homes lit up, unlike the previous darkness, indicating that the Rot had either been eliminated or suppressed by the churches he had established.

York's lips curved slightly upward, sensing the impact of his work. It felt like the rich reward after hard labor. "A good feeling," he thought.

Watching the tiny figure reach the illuminated area, York stepped forward, surpassing Marin to arrive at the source of the sound first.

The painful cries and groans came from a mare lying on the ground in distress. Its frequent, high-pitched cries had reduced to faint whimpers and soft hums. The mare was in labor, but clearly in trouble as her belly was still distended.

Beside her stood three people: a middle-aged couple that seemed like husband and wife, and a girl slightly older than Marin.

The man's face was marked with suppressed emotions, his hands dirty from trying to assist the mare. He seemed out of his depth, squatting next to the mare's head, gently stroking it.

"I'm sorry, Anna," he said apologetically. "I'm really sorry, but I have to perform a cesarean section on you."

This scene made it clear to York what was happening. Marin's "Anna" was a mare facing a birthing crisis.

York, glowing and floating above the scene, invisible to all, turned to look at Marin as she entered from behind the door.

She couldn't bear to look, instead burying herself in her sister's embrace. But York knew how terribly she felt.

"It's remarkable, being able to see all of a person's emotions," York mused, likening himself to God.

He had a vague idea forming. "Let's see."

The middle-aged woman, armed with surgical tools, looked equally reluctant but more decisive than the others.

"If we delay any longer, we might lose not just Anna but her foal as well."

With that, the man stood up.

"Let it be."

York glanced at Marin, hiding in her sister's embrace, eyes closed, as he listened to her prayer.

"Since there is a cause," he murmured, feeling a surge of power without any visible action.

"Who's there?" The man shouted, but then froze as light began to gather around the mare, Anna, forming an incredible and breathtaking figure.

Not just the man, but the woman ready with the surgical tools and Marin's sister all stared in shock.

"My God! What am I seeing?" the girl muttered, seeing the luminous figure materialize beside Anna. "Lord York!"

York had decided to reveal himself, appearing before this family who immediately fell to their knees in astonishment.

Even Anna, amidst the crisis, calmed down as the space filled with divine power.

"Lord York!"

The sudden change caught Marin off guard as she turned around, her eyes wide with shock, frozen in place.

Looking foolish with her sister pulling at her hand, she just stood there.

Seeing this, York couldn't help but smile.

"Child, I heard your prayers, so I came."

These words clarified to the kneeling, terrified, and excited couple the true reason behind York's appearance.

Marin remained standing, staring at him with wide eyes.

York, unconcerned, reached out to the mare Anna, now calmed by the divine power. With telekinesis and a view through his sanctified vision, he controlled everything about the mare on the ground.

Blood was reabsorbed, wounds healed, and the improperly positioned foal smoothly moved into the correct position for birth.

In a pain-free delivery, Anna, who had been in crisis, gave birth without feeling any discomfort.

The clear cries of the new foal brought joy and a rush of excitement to the kneeling couple and Marin's sister.

A new life was born, possibly enhanced by York's power, which might have left a bit of combined

 power in the foal. It opened its clear eyes immediately, staring at him.

York, sensing a hint of consciousness from this newborn foal, was astounded. "This..."

Recognizing that now was not the time for research, he turned his attention back to Marin, the initiator of all these events.

However, Marin was still standing foolishly until he approached her. Then she grinned, a silly smile, and said crisply, "Lord York!"

"Silly child," York, touched by her innocent smile, placed his hand on her smooth forehead. "No matter what the future holds, keep moving forward, maintain this mood."

He smiled and used ten points of the divine power accumulated in the Pluton Church of the Rot World, sanctifying the child.

Marin's body then radiated a faint glow, almost imperceptible unless closely observed.

"Truly talented, starting with hundreds of points, let's observe." Watching Marin, still clueless and just staring at him, York vanished on the spot.

The bright but soft light that was brighter than the surrounding lights also disappeared, and the hut returned to normal.

Time passed until the foal stood up and ran to Marin, who had finally come back to her senses, licking her right hand and eliciting giggles from her.

The couple and their older daughter, who had been kneeling without daring to raise their heads, finally dared to look up.

But they still hesitated to lift their heads. After a while, the couple exchanged glances and cautiously looked up. The figure of Lord York, identical to a statue, had disappeared; only their young daughter was playing with the lively, now-active foal, and Anna, who had just faced a birthing crisis, was back to normal, grazing beside them.

"Marin?" the man said instinctively.

Marin, dodging the foal's licks, looked at her bewildered parents and sister, tilted her head and said, "Huh?"

"Where's Lord York?" the man asked with an indulgent yet helpless look.

"He's already gone," Marin smiled. "Dad, I want to become a clergy member."

Her declaration shocked everyone into silence; only the foal's cheerful neighs and Anna's grazing broke the quiet.

"Marin, the church's examinations are tough, you need..." her mother began, worried.

Being clergy was the most honorable, precious, and respected profession in their world, and while many aspired to it, rigorous assessments deterred many.

Unfazed, her daughter seriously replied, "I'll study hard!"

Her mother could only look at her husband, and after a moment of shared understanding, recalling the terrifying events, he nodded.

Back in the real world, in Ashibi Church, York saw this scene but was distracted by an unexpected reward.

[You have fulfilled a believer's prayer, reward: +5 attribute points]

Surprised by the notification, York checked his personal panel to confirm this wasn't an illusion.

The available attribute points indeed showed seven points—two from his daily tasks and an unexpected five from this event.

Five points were typically what he earned from relatively ordinary random tasks.

"Hard to fathom," York muttered, not overly excited but rather pensive.

He recalled his insights about Marin, likening himself to God.

Switching perspectives, he considered whether God, who always listened to his daily tasks, might feel similarly to him now.

"Something's not right," York sighed. "My approach is flawed."

He looked deeply at the everlasting image of Jesus, closed the virtual window, and added the seven points to his vitality.

[Mechanical voice: Upgrade successful]

[Vitality: 270 increased to 277]

As York disappeared down the aisle, Ashibi Church returned to its tranquil state, illuminated by candlelight.

"My spirit is somewhat lifted, thank you for your help, Father York," said an old woman in the dim light.

York, in his inconspicuous bishop's robe, nodded. "It's what I should do, Miss Susie."

Since that night, half a month had passed.

The local believers, though initially puzzled by Father Lucian's departure and replacement, did not resist the new arrival, York.

A few days of familiarization allowed the normal operations of Ashibi Church to resume, thanks to Erin and Hannah's help.

Especially Erin, who stood there like a true clergy member.

Even Hannah immersed herself in the atmosphere of receiving people's gratitude.

Though there was no direct return, the unspoken bonds were palpable.

Thus, today Hannah took on the role of a volunteer at Ashibi Church, directing the charity food truck organized by Erin to distribute food in a troubled area.

It's worth mentioning that John Wick had returned and was responsible for the security of the food truck.

So with John Wick present, York felt comfortable letting Hannah distribute food alone in such a chaotic environment.

"Hmm," Miss Susie bowed slightly in response and left.

Watching her leave, York sighed, reflecting

 on the elderly woman's story of loss, only finding peace at Ashibi Church.

"Killed in a shootout," York muttered, eyes narrowing slightly.

In America, known for its daily shootouts, especially in such a chaotic place, every resident paid a price for their cheap rent with daily fear.

Susie's son had been killed by a stray bullet during a sudden shootout on his way to work.

Thinking of this, York remembered the events of the past half-month.

A nearby convenience store had been robbed by a dark-skinned young man with a handgun. Further away, a supermarket was looted by an organized group of zero-dollar shoppers. There were also thefts, robberies, and gang shootouts.

Yet none of these incidents had affected Ashibi Church.

Even thieves would come to share their troubles rather than target the church.

"How chaotic yet orderly," York mused.

More importantly, over the past half-month, a girl who frequently visited the church had caught his attention.

York turned to look at a dim corner at the back of the pews.

His eyes met the girl's, and through her pained expression, he sensed her deep sorrow.

Dressed in a black hoodie and jeans, the hood pulled over her face, the girl seemed startled by his gaze, flinching like a frightened rabbit before quickly lowering her head and scurrying out.

York's brow furrowed, not out of malice but due to his extrasensory perception and spiritual empathy.

He had glimpsed a memory from when the girl was about ten years old, a mere few seconds in which she sat on a stool, her limbs chained, her body covered in bruises and blood.

"Abuse?" York's brow knotted at the thought.

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