On Cyprus—what one might call the very center of the world—Teresa wandered like a madwoman through a cellar-like chamber, desperate for the peace of the island and of humanity itself.
Meanwhile, in Stuttgart, a man enslaved by diabolical thoughts gazed upon the crucified icon of Jesus erected at the mountain’s peak.

“I finally understand,” he murmured, “why they told me for years to keep silent and wait for a sign from them.”

When Reşat heard the slogan shouted by the priest as police apprehended him, he instantly understood what kind of act would unfold. He remembered as vividly as yesterday what the organization’s leaders had told him years ago, back when he was still a refugee on a ship in the middle of the sea, before arriving in Berlin:

“The only thing you must do is watch the priest whose name we will give you. Observe him from afar. We do not know when, but he will tell you what kind of action must be carried out. Know only this—what you will do will not follow the usual methods.”

Reşat had long since decided with whom he would execute his sensational act. Yasmin was the perfect candidate. His radical ideas—insulting, belittling, and scorning the Christian world and its sacred values—had caused a tremendous uproar. Moreover, Yasmin’s being shot by a member of the Church in front of the congregation outside a mosque had attracted great attention among both Muslims and others. Believers would support whatever Yasmin did, interpreting it as an act of qisas, rightful retribution. And soon enough, a church arson or an assassination of a Muslim would turn the matter into a blood feud.

The act he had in mind would drive Christians nearly insane. The organization would finally be able to find the suicide operatives it had long failed to recruit. If Reşat could see the leaders commanding the operations from the ship, he would have said to them:

“I congratulate you. This provocative act—something not even the Devil himself would conceive—might provoke more outrage than the September 11 attacks

      CHAPTER 1:THE DEMON HUNTERS AND THE FALSE MESSIAH

Human beings fear anything they cannot explain or make sense of. They tend to view extraordinary events through a mystical, supernatural lens. Some consider this a weakness, while others see it as an opportunity. Just as a businessman notices the lack of supply where demand is high and decides to invest in producing and selling the needed goods—expecting a high profit—there are those who exploit fear in a similar way.

Thus, individuals labeled by society as magicians, charlatans, sorcerers, or, in recent years, “metaphysical experts,” may sometimes gain wealth and prestige by manipulating people’s fears—or by dazzling them into admiration.

Yet, it would be grossly unfair to call everyone who astonishes and captivates people a fraud. One might say that such individuals claim to influence minds by acting upon spirits whose existence many do not doubt, affecting people either positively or negatively. People often believe that events they cannot explain are connected to metaphysical beings—spirits, angels, demons. In their assumptions, they are not entirely mistaken, yet it is equally true that charlatans take advantage of such beliefs to deceive and profit.

To assert that every strange occurrence is linked to metaphysical forces would be sheer ignorance. In fact, it would not be an exaggeration to say that most mysterious phenomena can be explained through current science or will be understood through future discoveries.

Today, everyone knows that with certain stations and radios, we can easily hear the voice of someone thousands of kilometers away. But imagine traveling centuries back in time, or going to an untouched tribe deep in an Amazon rainforest—people who have never encountered the outside world—and letting them hear a voice emerging from a mysterious stone-like device. Taking their beliefs into account, one could easily claim that this enchanted stone enables communication with spirits, angels, demons, or jinn.

The tribe, unable to explain the situation with their current knowledge, would believe us. They would regard us as possessors of supernatural powers. We could make them do what we wished and accept whatever we commanded. From this, we may draw a conclusion: to those advanced in science, that primitive tribe is no different than today’s world and its people.

There are individuals who, through discoveries known only to a handful of scientists, leave us in awe—our jaws literally dropping—as they perform what seems like a miraculous spectacle. The impression of possessing supernatural power may be created through a device, a chemical formula, or even an obscure medical condition.

For instance, when a pregnant woman takes certain classes of antibiotics, her child’s teeth may fail to develop properly, turning brown. A charlatan could exploit this medical fact—giving the drug to expectant mothers who defy him, ensuring their children are born with such teeth—and then proclaim:

“Look at this child! Because its mother disobeyed me, God has marked the sinner with a seal upon the strongest part of the body: the teeth.”

Ancient people believed epilepsy was caused by evil spirits entering the head. Thus, they drilled holes into skulls, thinking they could release the malevolent entities. The skulls discovered with perforations testify to this belief. How many of those people survived the procedure is another matter.

A charlatan could claim something similar to a primitive tribe:

“The reason your teeth ache is the demonic spirits within them. The blackened spots are their traces. I must drill into the tooth and drive them out.”

In truth, what we call root canal treatment today is precisely this: the nerve tissue within the pulp chamber is removed. When the pain subsides, the first thing the patient does is regard the practitioner as a hunter of supernatural evil spirits.

Solving inexplicable cases was the specialty of Mark and Süleyman, officers in the Berlin police department. But they would always remind:

“We are not concerned with metaphysical beings. What we deal with are events that may look bizarre, yet are scientifically or medically explainable beneath the surface.”

The officers who unraveled mysterious cases were not undeserving of their reputation. Whether true or not, rumors within the department and the national media claimed that Mark and Süleyman were brave warriors who had liberated a mansion possessed by the devil. Despite the relentless questions from the press and tabloids, they avoided microphones and focused solely on their work. The more they kept themselves—along with their beliefs and families—away from the world of gossip, the more their mystery and aura of secrecy grew.

Impressed by the public attention, the department’s superiors assigned them several enigmatic cases. One of the most peculiar involved a bat-shaped drone used to frighten the new heirs of an old château. The real estate broker and the deceased tycoon’s long-serving housemaid attempted to spread the false tale that Dracula cursed anyone who entered the property, hoping to buy the mansion at a cheap price. For Mark and Süleyman—dubbed “Demon Hunters” by the media—identifying a bat or flying Dracula-shaped drone was child’s play.

Another assignment involved solving the mystery of a cave believed to be an entrance to hell. Locals claimed that those who entered never returned, and that screams from the underworld echoed through its chambers. The surrounding fairy chimneys, the remnants of an ancient city, and boutique hotels carved into natural and artificial caves immediately raised the Demon Hunters’ suspicions.

The region possessed everything needed for tourism built on fear and mystery. The abundance of myths and legends surrounding it could not be dismissed as mere coincidence. Taking into account the astronomical prices and profits of the boutique hotels, Mark quickly understood where to begin. After illegally tapping the communications of several hotel managers, they discovered that everything was exactly as they suspected: speakers had been embedded into various parts of the cave walls, emitting faint, acoustic screams designed to terrify visitors.

It was also discovered that animals entering the cave were dying due to controlled releases of methane gas from its depths. From intercepted phone calls, they learned that the paintings of animal-headed humans on the cave walls were not ancient, but had been commissioned by the hotel management to create a mystical atmosphere.

Mark and Süleyman’s journey through the narrow valley between the mountains was nearing its end. Whenever they set out to solve a mysterious case, their road always began among wide highways and towering buildings, only to end up in shabby rural areas squeezed between mountains. For it was in such places that myths and superstitions thrived.

They arrived in a small town.

Pointing at the billboards that read, “The Messiah has descended to Earth—haven’t you heard?” Süleyman said, “Looks like this guy is our man,” and began to explain.

“He presents himself as someone endowed with supernatural powers. He insists he is not a magician and claims that his sole purpose is to persuade others that he is the awaited figure. Despite rejecting the label of magician, he performs his show in a tent—like a circus—or sometimes in a large conference hall.”

“So you’re telling me he doesn’t make pigeons disappear or pull people alive out of boxes pierced with swords like magicians do—then what exactly does he do that impresses people?” Mark asked.

“Brace yourself, because my answer will sound familiar,” Süleyman said with a chuckle. “Whatever his method is, he apparently exerts control over people.”

Mark brushed his hand through the air dismissively.

“This trick has been exposed countless times, not just by us. The endless myth: ruling over people’s minds and erasing their free will.”

“What I don’t understand,” Süleyman continued, “is this: if they can so easily influence people’s decisions—press a mental button, so to speak—then why do racist politicians still resort to lies about refugees having secret agendas or causing famine? Why spend so much money on election campaigns? They should just give that money to the billboard showmen instead.”

“I grew up in a village for a while too,” Süleyman said, drawing in a deep breath and letting it out slowly. “I know that psychology. Through their faith, they try to endure all the hardships they face. They remind themselves that this world is worthless, and they comfort their souls with quotes from Jesus and other prophets. That is right, and even admirable.

“But what’s wrong is this: it should not force you to renounce the wage that is rightfully yours, to abandon comfort, or suppress your desire for prosperity. People should submit to God’s decree, yes—but since we cannot know what fate holds for us, we must strive for something better: comfort, health, and dignity. We must not submit to injustice and exploitation committed for the benefit of others. And when these injustices are wrapped in religious or racial packaging, we must not remain silent.”

When they reached a place where a large crowd had gathered, Süleyman knew they had come to the right spot. For now, they preferred to blend in like ordinary citizens. Before the show began, they overheard people speaking of the extraordinary things associated with the so-called Messiah, and realized once more why the man favored rural communities.

They took seats in the middle rows, directly facing the stage. Beneath a large sign that read, “The Messiah has returned for you,” the long-awaited performer appeared. It was obvious how desperately he tried to resemble Jesus: his pale, yellowish hair; his emaciated arms and legs; his blue eyes, fair skin, and faint smile—all mimicking the crucified Christ. He had even worn shorts to evoke the familiar icon. And behind him stood a woman dressed as a nun, clearly meant to represent the Virgin Mary.

Mark turned to Süleyman with a grimace.

“I’m really disturbed. My heart refuses to accept that Jesus—who embodied the pinnacle of love and compassion—is being associated with this showman. Let’s not call him Messiah. Let’s give him another name.”

Nodding in agreement, Süleyman thought for a moment and said:

“How about we call him the madman?”

They might not persuade others to call him a madman, but at the very least, they would not partake in tarnishing the name of that revered guide in such a setting. Whatever this spectacle was—show or sacrilege—it had begun.

The madman spoke: “No, no, do not see me as someone different from yourselves. The only difference is that I use my mind—and the divine power that exists in everyone—to its fullest capacity. In other words, I am not a prophet. I am a sage, and I am determined to build the ideal society.”

Hearing these words, the Demon Hunters’ thoughts drifted back ten years. The mystical organization they had dismantled back then also believed that everyone could become divine like Jesus. It was possible that the madman was connected to that group, yet they also knew many people around the world shared similar philosophies.

“Today, I will prove this to you with just one demonstration,” said the madman, requesting a volunteer from the audience.

In a hall rather large for a small town, five people in the back rows raised their hands. He selected one of them and invited him to the stage. Süleyman’s glance toward Mark said it all: How do we know this volunteer isn’t his plant?

The man who walked onto the stage, with his neat clothing, triangular beard, framed glasses, and stern face, looked like someone who could not be easily deceived—someone rational, who valued science. The madman seated him with his back to the audience. With the help of the women dressed as nuns, the man put on headphones.

The hall fell utterly silent. The heavy rock music coming through the headphones was so loud that those seated in the front rows could hear it clearly. The madman gave his final instruction to the nuns. Pointing at the black blindfold on the table, he said:

“Tie his eyes tight.”

The audience had no real idea what kind of performance the madman was about to give.

“I will issue commands that the volunteer cannot hear and does not willingly wish to perform, yet because his mind will be under my control, I will make him execute various movements—and you will witness it. The music in his headphones will continue to play so that he cannot hear my instructions, while you can. Also, to prevent anyone from signaling him what to do, we seated him facing the bare wall, with his back turned to you, exactly as you saw. And of course, due to the blindfold covering his eyes, he cannot receive any messages or gestures from anywhere.”

The audience’s attention was fixed on the volunteer and the madman. In a moment of collective breathlessness, the madman gave his first command:

“By the spirit of Erik, I command you—extend the right foot of the body you inhabit!”

The moment he finished speaking, the volunteer moved his right foot forward. The madman continued to give commands: he ordered him to raise his right arm, to jump, to turn his head to the right, and to lift both arms into the air. He performed every command flawlessly.

The final order came:

“Remove the cloth over your eyes with your hands, and turn toward me.”

The volunteer obeyed as well.

The crowd rose to their feet, applauding wildly. The Demon Hunters remained seated, but to avoid drawing attention, they eventually stood and joined the thunderous applause. When they finally had a clear view of the stage, they noticed that the madman had vanished.

His assistant, dressed as a nun, addressed the audience:

“Spirit originates from the same root as laws such as gravity. Think of spirit as the conscious counterpart of those laws—a force clothed in a particular form. In places dense with materiality such as this, it is difficult for our master to command the spirits. Moreover, he prefers not to waste his true power on such performances, but to devote it to the salvation of humanity. For this reason, he has withdrawn to rest.”

Mark said, “Besides the fact that we can’t know whether the volunteer was his man, he could have given a command suggested by someone from the audience. That would have been far more impressive.”

“Madman issued his commands one after another, without any pause. He probably told this volunteer—who is most likely his own man—what to perform every fifteen seconds beforehand. We are assuming there was no trick with the music in his headphones or the blindfold over his eyes,” Süleyman said, rising from his seat and whispering to his partner:

“Why don’t we just detain Madman and this volunteer, who we suspect works for him? A little pressure, and the man will confess everything—including how much he was paid. I don’t think someone chasing fame with such a simple fraud has a sophisticated plan.”

Mark motioned to his partner to sit down.

“If I were you, I wouldn’t pass judgment so quickly, nor underestimate any charlatan. That’s exactly what he wants. Do you think he doesn’t know we find his show simple? He wants to be arrested for this cheap trick. When the news hits the papers, he’ll get the publicity he couldn’t attain on his own. And don’t be fooled—don’t assume the volunteer would betray him. I’m sure he’s been paid enough to live comfortably for the rest of his life.” He leaned in and whispered, “Forget about him—don’t lose the volunteer. Hold on to him.”

Süleyman understood immediately. He rose from his seat at once and hurried off, determined not to let the man escape. The young Demon Hunter had successfully fulfilled his task regarding Erik. Now, they would wait for their target to make a mistake.