Chapter 257: The Fall of the White House (2)
The Duel's Aftermath and the Final Card
The battle in the woods, though brief, was fraught with danger. A fully enraged Ghast had fought to the death, and only Luke's thorough preparations prevented the black light spell from overwhelming him.
From the ground, a tender shoot burst forth, rapidly growing into the towering, vine-covered figure of the Swamp Thing.
He was the helper Luke had specifically summoned—his ultimate contingency.
The Swamp Thing looked deeply at Adam the Demon with many unspoken questions, but ultimately suppressed them. Everyone had secrets; even if he asked, soone like Luke Shaw wouldn't tell him.
After ensuring the demonic remnant of Ghast's soul was utterly incinerated, Luke landed.
"I still need your help in a mont," Luke told the elental being.
The Swamp Thing sighed. "One body, two souls... so that was the truth of the Mask of Fate. Luckily, you uncovered it, or Ghast would certainly have resurrected."
Luke gently shook his head, his face serious.
"It's too early for confidence. Don't forget his other identity."
Hearing this, the Swamp Thing’s expression also grew grim. The President of the United States, one of the most powerful people in the world. The fact that the demon Ghast had truly possessed him was a disaster.
They could only imagine the catastrophic global impact once the truth was revealed.
The Interrogation
anwhile, with the death of the secondary host, Joel Nash seed to feel the psychic shock, his face contorted in disbelief. Concurrently, Sam Lane received the confirmation ssage from Luke.
Reading the short text, Lane allowed a dangerous smile to spread across his face as he stared at Nash.
"Mr. President—no, I should call you Your Excellency Ghast. Judging by your reaction, you must have felt it: Your other soul has been destroyed by the person I dispatched. Now, only you remain."
"This is your last warning: Leave the President's body, or you will die right here."
The Secret Service bodyguards looked back and forth between the President and the General, their faces etched with confusion. What is this? The President? A demon? Is General Lane claiming the President is possessed?
Joel Nash frowned, his eyes flashing rapidly. The sudden death of the young host was a heavy blow. He instantly realized his enemies were well-prepared and knew his Achilles' heel, forcing them to commit this "act of treason" to set this trap.
Their goal was his absolute annihilation!
Damn them!
Joel Nash was enraged but couldn't think of an effective counterasure. His Secret Service detail was far too small to hold back the ard military forces. It was impossible to expect them to cover his escape.
His only option was to stall, for as long as possible.
With that thought, he pushed aside a bodyguard and roared fiercely, "General Lane, I have no idea what you're talking about! Ghast? I have never heard of him! I don't know why you suspect of demon possession, but I can clearly state that I am human—a pure human. As your President, I solemnly warn you and the soldiers behind you that your actions constitute treason. It is a profound sha upon yourselves, your families, and your friends. Do you honor the oaths you swore?"
The impassioned, angry challenge echoed, but it was t with silence.
These soldiers were clearly not ordinary troops; their resolve was unnervingly disciplined.
Sam Lane sneered. "Your performance is truly pitiful."
Then, he raised his hand and gestured.
The troops parted, and seven individuals in peculiar clothing stepped out. Their ages varied widely, from a balding elderly man to a boy in his teens. They carried strange artifacts: staffs, bone rings, necklaces made of animal teeth, and a skull that shimred with dark light.
The mont the seven appeared, Joel Nash's expression changed instantly.
Magic!
These people were all sorcerers.
Sam Lane stated heavily, "Mr. Glarel, he's yours."
The leading elderly man, Glarel, nodded slightly and said in a low voice,
"If there truly is a demon inside him, we will force him to reveal his true form. But if there isn't..."
He left the thought unfinished. Sam Lane snorted.
"I will take full responsibility for this entire action. None of you will be implicated."
"We hope you keep your promise, General Lane."
Assassinating the President of the United States was no small matter; no one in the world could shoulder that cri. Glarel stepped forward. Behind him, the six other strangely dressed witches and warlocks spread out, placing their magical artifacts on the ground. As a low, rasping incantation began, the air suddenly grew agitated. The skull, bone necklaces, arm rings, and staffs glowed with black light, from which seeped black, tadpole-like symbols that linked together, forming a pitch-black Hexagram Array.
Seeing this, the surrounding soldiers involuntarily swallowed hard. Sam Lane, too, frowned, his face a mask of solemnity.
Success or failure hangs on this mont!
Glarel produced a silver compass. The needle pointed directly at the President in the crowd. Glarel slamd his chest, spitting blood onto the compass. The magic array behind him erupted in a dazzling black light that shot toward Joel Nash, transforming into countless binding glyphs that wrapped him like chains.
Joel Nash made no attempt to resist. He stood calmly, brimming with confidence, apparently certain of his human identity.
The more composed he was, the worse the Secret Service agents looked. Soone, unable to watch, started to move, but Ron Baker glared fiercely at him. What good would acting now do? The opposition numbered over a hundred fully ard Special Forces soldiers; a move would instantly turn them into sieves.
Their own deaths didn't matter, but the President's life did.
Just as they were thinking this, the situation changed. A phantom image appeared within the magic circle, and upon close inspection, it vaguely resembled Joel Nash.
The most robust of the seven sorcerers hesitated.
"We detect no trace of a demon. The soul inside the President is human."
At those words, the crowd instantly erupted into commotion. Even Sam Lane frowned, a flicker of shock in his eyes.
Ron Baker let out a long breath and shouted,
"Stop now, General! Don't make things worse. The President is not a demon! Your intelligence was wrong!"
Sam Lane fell silent, his brows furrowing into a tight knot of frustration.
At that mont, Glarel put away his compass. Discovering sothing terrifying, his voice began to tremble.
"Sagredo, quick! Get the Blood Cloth!"
The boy nad Sagredo was stunned but didn't dare hesitate. He quickly retrieved a wooden box. When the lid opened, inside lay a piece of cloth shimring with a sinister red light.
The boy carefully picked up the corner of the cloth with tweezers and spread it on the ground. As soon as the fabric touched the earth, large pools of crimson blood began to seep out, creating a terrifying and grotesque scene.
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