Once upon a time, there stood a haunted castle by the sea. People reported experiencing bizarre sensations, and sudden ominous feelings would lead some to become hysterical. Despite sending groups of policemen and shamans to investigate, their efforts yielded little success. At best, they returned with bloodshot eyes, refusing to speak until they had time to recover. The worst-affected individuals had to be carried back to the city during daylight because they were paralyzed by fear. Most eventually recovered and resumed their duties, but a few victims remained motionless since their return from the castle.

“Father Phillip,” called out little Florian, waving a newspaper that featured the latest batch of victims in another terrible mental state, “they hire shamans and policemen, but no exorcists! Don’t you want to take a look at it?”

The silence that followed was a clear sign that Florian demanded an answer. The other children played their instruments in another room, but Florian stood steadfastly in front of Father Phillip’s office. The boy never left without having his questions addressed.

Father Phillip sighed. “You know I can’t simply act on my own whenever I feel like it. Besides, if shamans are already involved, the church is often prevented from asking further questions.”

“But Father Phillip,” Florian insisted, “you can’t just sit there reading the Bible while people suffer!”

Just as the schoolboy finished his sentence, Father Phillip’s phone rang. He spoke briefly with the caller and hung up. “You’ve raised this topic at the right time, Florian. I must go now. See you.”

---

“Ah, Father Phillip, thank you so much for being here,” greeted the police officer when he arrived at the location he had been called to.

The Father flashed a smile and bowed slightly. “Certainly, always after the shamans burned your money. The church is indeed there for the poor, isn’t it, Dawson?”

Dawson blushed. “Well…” The officer seemed to forget where he usually placed his hands. “It appears that the church is capable of things that the shamans cannot even comprehend.”

“Ah, shamans don’t know about demons?” Father Phillip inquired.

“Nonono,” Dawson replied, emphasizing the urgency, “this demon can’t be harmed by any spell. Even the strongest incantations were repelled. What’s worse, it adapts to the situation—attack it, and it becomes more resistant.” Dawson’s explanation sounded matter-of-fact, but Father Phillip noticed his hesitation and random pauses. The police officer resembled a child trying to memorize world history rather than a seasoned professional reporting the truth.

The not-so-old priest nodded, listening intently to Dawson. He took notes as he reflected on the situation. Finally, he spoke up: “You know, Dawson, there’s one thing that all your batches did that made the demon stronger.”

Dawson flinched. He didn’t want a sermon from a priest, especially outside of mass. “What is it, Father Phillip?”

Father Phillip locked eyes with him. “Fear. You were all afraid. No wonder nothing worked against the demon. Fear is the evil’s main weapon, not those feeble spells they flaunt. Now, let’s go and take care of it.”

---

As Father Phillip and the police officer, Dawson, arrived at the castle, Father Phillip addressed the newest batch of recruits. He retained only those willing to pray and instructed them to hold onto their rosaries. The castle needed a regular blessing, he declared, and the demon within was not something to fear. Fear, he explained, was the evil’s main weapon, far more potent than any feeble spells the shamans displayed. With conviction, Father Phillip blessed the castle, sprinkling every room with holy water. Despite the screaming sounds that erupted when the holy water landed on the castle’s surface, Father Phillip remained steadfast, treating them as mere bird chirps. As they completed the ritual, there was no trace of the demon. The shamans, however, adamantly refused to visit the place again. They claimed it felt like being burned alive, and the brightness was so intense that they feared going blind.

Father Phillip remained an enigma. In his presence, demons that appeared as fierce as lions transformed into mere kittens. Even the strongest shamans harbored fear of him.

“See, Dawson,” Father Phillip said, patting the police officer on the shoulder, “just don’t be afraid. No demon can harm you then.”

And so, the haunted castle by the sea found peace, its malevolent spirit banished by unwavering faith and fearlessness.