Chapter 175: Pre-Operation Training
When Gideon saw who had entered, his eyebrows lifted slightly.
This woman was also a contestant—her name seemed to be Elena.
"Oh! Sorry," Elena said, feigning surprise, though her gaze remained fixed on Gideon.
"I didn't expect anyone to be in the RV."
Then, without giving him a chance to respond, she stepped closer.
"Those Mountain Men… they really eat people, don't they?"
She continued approaching, her voice lowering.
"You said you're an exorcist. That means you'll protect me, right?"
Her eyes were pleading, like a wounded deer.
Feeling the warmth press against his arm, Gideon immediately stepped back, putting distance between them.
In the world of American horror, seductive scenes were usually followed by brutal deaths.
If she wanted to court disaster herself, that was one thing—but dragging him along too?
After he'd come all this way to warn them, this was outright ingratitude.
Seeing him retreat only fueled Elena's possessiveness.
She stepped forward again.
"There are so many bugs in the forest. I can't reach certain places when applying repellent. Could you help me?"
As she spoke, she pulled a bottle of insect spray from her back pocket and set it on the table.
Then she gave Gideon a suggestive look.
The next second, she turned around and lifted her shirt from the waist, clearly intending to take it off.
Gideon frowned and quietly pulled a cross from his pocket.
Anyone who starts stripping the moment they meet doesn't look normal.
Could she be possessed by an evil spirit?
Desire and lust were among demons' favorite tools, after all.
On the other side, Elena had already removed her outer clothes, leaving only a pale violet undergarment.
But then—she took that off as well.
Turning back around, she covered herself only with her hands.
"Father," she asked softly,
"are you ready?"
Splash!
A bottle of water was dumped straight over her head.
Elena froze, mouth wide open, eyes full of disbelief.
"What the hell is wrong with you?!"
She wiped her face, now completely exposed.
Gideon, however, had no interest in looking.
After emptying an entire bottle of twenty-year consecrated holy water, he immediately pulled out his exorcism scripture.
"In the name of the Father and the Son—"
A moment later—
"Apologies, Miss Elena," Gideon said with a gentle smile, handing her clothes back.
"I thought you might be possessed."
Elena snatched them away furiously.
"I've never met a man like you! If it weren't for the fact that you actually seem capable—and that I want more screen time—"
She cursed under her breath, making it very clear that she considered Gideon hopelessly unromantic.
"If you want to leave this forest alive," Gideon interrupted coldly,
"you'd better wear more protective clothing."
His tone shifted.
"The Mountain Men eat human flesh—and they especially like people with good figures who take care of themselves."
He looked her up and down.
"Judging by you, the texture would probably be excellent."
Elena's face turned pale.
She instinctively crossed her arms over her chest.
"I've never seen a priest like you!"
She flung the door open and fled.
"…Phew."
Gideon wiped his forehead, as if he'd just survived a major battle.
---
Outside the Camp
A bush rustled.
Two Mountain Men emerged.
Both were grotesque—one's face was covered in fleshy tumors, the other's scalp was partially rotten.
They crouched low, staring at the busy humans in the distance.
The "Rotten Scalp" raised a longbow, clearly having picked a target.
Just as he drew the string, the "Tumor Face" slapped the bow aside.
With aggressive hand gestures, Tumor Face signaled that the distance was too far—missing the shot would alert everyone.
Rotten Scalp growled in frustration but lowered the bow.
They had been watching these humans for some time.
Originally, the metal boxes—vehicles—had been parked by the forest edge, making approach easy.
They had planned to strike tonight.
But now the humans had moved everything into an open clearing, completely ruining their plans.
Suddenly, Tumor Face noticed the humans gathering.
He gestured for them to move closer.
Clang… clang.
After only a few steps, something rang beneath his feet.
Tumor Face froze in alarm.
Two metal cans, tied together with string.
Worse still—the vibration triggered more clattering noises from surrounding bushes.
Only then did he realize that such traps completely encircled the camp, placed every few steps.
"…!"
His fists clenched, body trembling with rage.
At that moment, Rotten Scalp slapped him hard.
Tumor Face turned angrily—
But Rotten Scalp calmly gestured don't alert them.
Tumor Face looked back toward the camp.
The humans were already turning in this direction.
"Hngh!"
He snarled and dragged his companion away in retreat.
---
Inside the Camp
A temporary canopy had been set up, with crates and luggage stacked as makeshift walls.
"I thought I heard something move near the traps."
"Probably the wind."
"Should we check? Maybe it's just an animal—"
Gideon stood aside, quietly observing.
"Hmm… Elena's clinging to Jake now. Looks like she's searching for protection."
"That white guy, Jones—reckless and fearless. Definitely first to die."
"Dale's already armed and alert. Just as expected—the top-tier fighter of the series."
At that moment, Michael approached with a camera.
"Father Gideon… uh… when do we actually start filming?"
His face was full of forced smiles.
After partnering up with Gideon, Michael had expected intense hunts and bloody excitement.
Instead, they'd been stuck in camp the entire time—no exploration allowed.
How were they supposed to film anything exciting like this?
Michael was growing anxious.
Gideon glanced at him.
"How do you plan to shoot it?"
Michael rubbed his hands eagerly.
"You know—post-apocalypse style. Government collapse. Humans versus Mountain Men."
"Too cliché," Gideon replied flatly.
Gideon shook his head repeatedly.
"That kind of setup is everywhere in Hollywood already. There's nothing new about it."
Michael was left speechless.
He'd spent several sleepless nights thinking up that idea.
Producer Mara stepped forward.
"But we already prepared the props. I even consulted a veteran producer—he agreed this approach would work."
"Then…" Michael patted Mara's shoulder and asked cautiously,
"Do you have a better idea?"
Gideon tapped the whiteboard behind him. He had prepared it in advance.
"Mountain Men represent horror," he said calmly.
"And the reason people feel fear… is because it feels real."
He wrote two words on the board:
REALITY
"Instead of relying on written scripts, throw all restrictions away," Gideon continued.
"Only film what's real."
Michael's eyes lit up, realization dawning.
"So… how exactly do we do that?"
Gideon pointed at the camera.
"You've heard of mockumentary filming, right?"
Michael and Mara nodded.
It was a style that emerged in the 1930s—
using improvised dialogue, handheld cameras, and unscripted reactions to create the illusion that events were truly happening.
Michael understood instantly.
The Mountain Men were real.
Which meant what they filmed wouldn't be a mock documentary at all—it would be a real one.
This kind of footage would absolutely explode with audiences.
Michael's eyes grew brighter by the second.
Mara couldn't help but look at Gideon again, her expression different now.
The two of them quickly left to make preparations.
---
Gideon hadn't said all this simply to help their show.
He wanted what happened here to be broadcast.
The "mockumentary" label was the perfect shield.
If anyone investigated later, everything could be dismissed as fiction.
As for what would be spread—
Gideon clapped his hands, and everyone turned toward him.
"Before entering the forest, there are several safety rules you must memorize."
He began writing on the whiteboard.
"Across countless supernatural incidents, curiosity has one of the highest fatality rates."
"For example—the noise from the traps earlier."
"Convincing yourself it's 'just the wind' or 'probably a small animal' is extremely foolish.
It lowers your guard."
"And deciding to go check it out?"
"That's outright stupidity."
"The bushes over there are dense. How do you know something dangerous isn't hiding inside?"
At that exact moment—
Near the metal-can trap, Rotten Scalp and Tumor Face were crouched in the bushes, waiting to ambush any human who wandered over alone.
They waited a long time.
No one came.
Instead, insects crawled all over them.
"…So what should we do?" Nina raised her hand.
She had been one of the people who wanted to go investigate earlier.
Gideon raised a single finger.
"Stay away."
"Approaching danger always carries risk. That cannot be avoided.
Distance is the safest option."
"After all," he added calmly,
"you have no reason to go over there. Correct?"
In American horror films, characters constantly move toward danger for absolutely no reason.
That trope had to be crushed.
Everyone nodded in agreement.
"Second rule," Gideon continued, writing quickly.
"When you're lucky enough to defeat an enemy, finish the job."
"My recommendation is total destruction. Burn them to ash.
At minimum—two shots to the chest, one to the head."
"Third rule: never sympathize with your enemies.
If someone among you does—tell her or him to get lost."
"Fourth: do not split up."
He listed one fatal mistake after another—
every classic death flag in horror films.
To make sure it sank in, Gideon had everyone repeat the rules out loud.
Soon, voices echoed through the primitive forest like a classroom reciting a lesson.
At the same time, a seed called caution was planted in their hearts.
Michael hovered nearby with his camera, eyes shining.
He had never seen anything like this.
"Oh baby," he licked his lips.
"This is going to explode."
That was exactly what Gideon wanted.
If these safety rules could spread through a television program, their influence might reach all of North America.
As a result, it would become far harder for demons and evil spirits to cause disasters.
Even if another incident like the Remembrance Day attack happened—
Even without Gideon present—
The casualty count would be dramatically lower.
And perhaps, one day, when everyone followed safety rules…
Horror itself might finally disappear from this land.