Tokyo: The Player Behind the Scenes.

Chapter 289, Section 35: Extracting Bone and Marrow

excruciating pain.

It was as if a red-hot steel needle had pierced his body, forcibly pulling him out of the boundless darkness.

He slowly opened his eyes, his vision blurred, and a wave of dizziness washed over his brain. He involuntarily let out a dry, hoarse gasp.

Then, his five senses gradually returned.

He could feel his bare skin exposed to the air, which sent shivers down his spine.

The nasal cavity was filled with a strong smell of hay and dust, as well as the smell of blood.

The sharp, tingling pain that awakened him seemed to cover every part of his body.

He struggled to move his eyes, trying to focus.

The first thing that catches the eye is the rough wooden beams, which are indistinct in the dim light.

He realized he was being suspended, his arms were being forcibly pulled apart, and he felt a burning pain in his wrists as the rough ropes dug deep into his flesh. But the most intense pain was undoubtedly the excruciating pain coming from his palms and ankles, as if he were being nailed down by some large nails.

Then, he saw that figure.

Not far in front of him was the same badly worn denim jacket, with a wide-brimmed denim hat and a mask covering most of his face, revealing only a pair of eyes with a cold glint.

He sat silently in front of me, holding a row of darts in his hand.

Father Geoghan's gaze laboriously descended, landing on his own naked body.

That's when I realized it.
His chest, abdomen, and thighs were covered with countless darts.

It was one of those cheap darts with colorful plastic tails that outdated pubs loved to use.

And he was a flesh-and-blood dartboard.

Blood slowly seeped out along the dart shaft, congealing into streaks on the pale skin.

Each faint breath aggravated the foreign objects embedded in her body, bringing a new wave of stinging pain.

"Uh-huh."

Father Geoghan made a series of unintelligible hoarse sounds as he frantically tried to organize his thoughts.

Thinking back on who he had recently offended, could it be the father of the boy he was planning to harm?
These brutes are indeed capable of such foolish things. We mustn't provoke them; let's focus on surviving first.

"woke up?"

Father Geoghan shuddered, struggled to lift his head, and feigned a blank expression.

“Who…who are you? Why?” Father Geoghan’s voice was hoarse with fear and confusion. “Although I don’t know why you did this, the Lord forgives every lost soul. Just lay down your weapons, and we can talk. The Lord loves the world.”

His response was silence.

Arthur, holding a dart, slowly raised his hand.

Whoosh—Pfft.

The dart struck Father Geoghan precisely on the inside of his thigh, just two fingers' width from his manhood. The sharp pain made the priest gasp for air.

"Aha."

"Does the Lord love the world?" Arthur mocked. "Does that include maggots like you?"

As Father Geoghan moved, even more intense pain shot through his ankles and palms, causing him to convulse and sweat to pour down his face.

He realized that pleading and religious rhetoric seemed to have no effect on this madman, and his fear instantly transformed into a strong will to survive.

"Money, I have money!" he gasped, his voice trembling. "Let me go, I have so much money! Hidden, hidden somewhere only I know! Bank accounts! Cash, antiques! It's all yours! All of it! Enough for you to squander for a lifetime!"

He rambled on, throwing out bait, hoping to seize a glimmer of hope.

However, Arthur simply listened quietly, his hands never pausing their work.

Two more darts were thrown, their force so great that they pierced through the muscle.

"Ugh—!"

The pain isn't severe, but it always aggravates other wounds, like accumulating in a jackpot.

Father Geoghan's screams echoed through the empty barn as he watched in despair as the row of darts in his opponent's hand dwindled one by one.

Finally, the last dart was thrown, embedding itself deep near his groin.

Arthur's hands were empty.

He slowly lowered his hand, then took off his cowboy hat and removed the black mask covering his face.

Father Geoghan's breathing stopped, and he immediately closed his eyes tightly, unwilling to see the other person's true face.

“I can’t see anything, I’m blind, I don’t know anything! Please let me go, please! For God’s sake!” he screamed, his body twisting wildly, trying to break free of his restraints, but only to be met with even more intense pain.

"I don't need a blind person."

Click.

It's the soft sound of metal rubbing together.

Father Geoghan felt a cold object pressed against his forehead—the muzzle of a gun.

He could only tremble as he slowly reopened his eyes. His vision blurred as he focused on the face so close to his own, he tried to feign confusion, his voice trembling with tears: "Who...who are you? I don't know you, please, let me go."

Arthur broke into a smile.

"Now, do you remember?"

Before he finished speaking, Arthur suddenly raised his right hand, not with a gun, but with his open palm, and slammed it hard onto Father Geoghan's thigh, which was covered with darts!

"No!"

The priest's scream instantly rose to its highest point, becoming so shrill that he lost his voice!
Several darts, already deeply embedded in his flesh, were forced into his body under immense pressure; the faint creaking sound of the dart shafts rubbing against his bones could even be heard.

Fresh blood gushed out like a small fountain from around the squeezed wound.

"Ah!! Arthur, Arthur! No, it can't be!" Geogan finally broke down in fear and pain. He could no longer pretend and screamed that name, "You can't find me! It can't be! I clearly... clearly severed all ties with Illinois, how could you... how could you?"

“I made a deal with the devil.” Arthur’s voice was calm. He withdrew his blood-stained hand and casually wiped it on his pants. “I got a nose that can smell your stinking soul.”

He moved closer to Geogen's distorted face, staring intently at him.

“The night is still long, Father,” Arthur’s voice was low. “When you go to hell, remember to give my name. Arthur Michael Williams.”

The priest's pupils dilated to their limit with fear, and his last instinct for survival kicked in.

“Wait, wait! Arthur, you can’t kill me!” He spoke rapidly, his voice trembling. “I know people, I know the diocesan bishop, Bishop O’Connor! He’s in Houston! He’s very powerful! He… he’s my dearest friend and family. If you kill me, he’ll definitely come after you!”

“Bishop O’Connor?” Arthur repeated the name, his smile seemingly widening slightly. “Very good.”

A glimmer of hope rekindled in Father Geoghan's eyes.

“I will send him a one-way ticket to hell as well.” Arthur pierced Geogen’s last shred of illusion and picked up a boning knife. “The one who invited him was you.”

"Ah!"

Inside the barn, only Father Geoghan's intermittent screams remained, growing weaker and weaker until they finally disappeared completely.

At dawn, outside the barn.

Several police cars, without sirens blaring, quietly stopped on the dirt road a hundred meters away from the barn.

The car door opened, and a group of well-prepared local police officers quickly got out, took out rifles from the trunk, and cautiously surrounded the abandoned barn in the wilderness.

"Listen up, you inside! We are the police! You are surrounded! Drop your weapons, put your hands behind your head, and come out immediately!"

After the perimeter was secured, a sheriff took out a megaphone and shouted loudly towards the direction of the barn.

The sound echoed across the empty wilderness, reaching the barn, but disappeared without a trace, eliciting no response.

"Repeat! Listen up, everyone inside! Put down your weapons immediately, put your hands behind your heads, and come out! Otherwise, we will take coercive measures!"

Still, deathly silent.

The sheriff put down the megaphone, his brow furrowed. "Did you release the drone?" he asked the officer next to him.

“I’ve tried, sir.” The officer shook his head. “The barn windows are all sealed up, and the doors are tightly closed. The remaining gaps are too small for the drone to get in.”

The sheriff said in a deep voice, "Prepare the bomb squad, be careful, the suspect is armed!"

The demolition team quickly took their positions. With a muffled bang and a violent tremor, a hole was blasted in one of the barn walls.

"Police! Don't move!"

"lay down your weapon!"

The fully armed police officers were on high alert, their flashlights sweeping across the dim light and their gun barrels scanning every corner warily.

However, inside the barn, there was only deathly silence.

The beam of the powerful flashlight swayed through the billowing smoke and dust, eventually settling on the center of the barn.

All the police officers who rushed in froze in their tracks as the beams of light converged, forming a circle of light like a searchlight.

Before them was an upside-down cross.

A body hangs on the cross, but it is not a complete body.

That was a piece of skin and flesh that had been completely peeled off!
Pale, wrinkled, and stained with dark red blood, it looked like a discarded, hollowed-out sac.

Beneath the skin and flesh, around the base of the inverted cross, lay a pile of things.

It consists of bones and organs.

The ribs, arm bones, and leg bones, which had been completely removed, were piled up one by one, piece by piece.

“Oh, God,” a young police officer uttered first, his voice trembling with shock and physical discomfort.

"vomit!"

Another officer could no longer hold back, suddenly turned around, bent over, and vomited violently.

The sheriff's face was ashen. He suppressed the churning in his stomach and stared intently at the upside-down flesh and scattered bones. Although twisted and deformed, the body shape and hair made it possible that the person was probably the missing Father Geoghan.

But that's all he can recognize; he can't get any closer and look directly at it.

"Do we still need to notify the church to identify the person?"

　Japan failed!
　　
　
(End of this chapter)