My Possession Became a Ghost Story - Chapter 224

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Team. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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“Ha…”

Saraka let out a hollow laugh.

This was it. This was the reason she had gathered people here.

Saraka wanted to immediately grab the hair of those offering prayers to Evangeline Rohanson, slit their throats, and cut out the tongues that spouted such absurd words. They were enchanted by the fantasy-like spectacle and speaking of Evangeline Rohanson’s innocence.

And these ignorant fools would speak of today’s events when they returned alive. They would chatter about the story of the woman who jumped from the spire but was saved by an angel, spreading it from mouth to mouth like rats over drinks.

They would spray saliva as they gave speeches about how courageous Evangeline Rohanson was for jumping to prove her innocence, and how beautiful the angel that descended to save her was, never letting their mouths dry.

Saraka, who knew the usefulness of rumors, could roughly guess how great the impact of those words would be, how uncontrollably they would grow. Of course, they could be dismissed as absurd nonsense… but the timing and opponent were not good.

Like those who had invaded the temple today, there were quite a few in the world who harbored resentment from being oppressed.

The temple’s power was soaring at its peak. The Emperor and nobles were inclined to yield to Bishop Marik who had the divine on his back, but if Bishop Marik showed any weakness, they would pounce on him like a pack of wolves. They were always glaring with eyes ready to block the temple’s rise and clip Bishop Marik’s wings.

Saraka made her decision.

…She couldn’t let that happen, so she would have to kill everyone who set foot in this place. Even if the ground would be covered with blood instead of grass, even if a fishy smell would linger instead of the scent of flowers, she absolutely must.

No, no… She couldn’t kill the priests and knights, let alone the nobles. The priests were Saraka’s limbs, and the nobles were Saraka’s inexhaustible assets.

Moreover, if she killed all the useful ones, chaos beyond Saraka’s control would ensue. She needed to use a different method. Saraka forcibly suppressed the rising murderous intent.

Saraka soothed herself as if brainwashing. When she had endured even all the teachings Bishop Marik had given her, how pathetic would it be if she couldn’t control just one murderous desire.

It was absurd that not killing others was more difficult than putting her hand into blazing flames and watching her flesh melt away.

However, no matter how much she endured and persevered, her anger would not subside.

Saraka absolutely could not leave a stain on Bishop Marik’s reputation. It was the name she had longed for all her life. To Saraka, Bishop Marik was the ultimate object of admiration. Even if a god appeared before her eyes and denied Bishop Marik, it would not take away Saraka’s respect.

Evangeline Rohanson had defiled the name of such a Bishop Marik. The sacrifice prepared solely to elevate Bishop Marik’s reputation had dared to rebel.

At this moment, Evangeline had changed from Saraka’s stepping stone to her shackles. It was a change that Evangeline would have been very pleased about if she had known.

No, perhaps Evangeline Rohanson was using another miracle to read every one of Saraka’s thoughts.

Saraka looked at Evangeline, who stood quietly observing her. That contemptibly beautiful face and those blood-red ominous eyes met Saraka’s gaze.

Saraka tried to glimpse fragments of emotion from Evangeline, but despite not wearing a mask, she could read no thoughts from Evangeline at all. Moreover, whether it was paranoia or not, Evangeline seemed to be mocking Saraka, making it impossible for her to keep watching.

Saraka racked her brain. She thought and thought about how to deal with the idiots who were completely intoxicated by the spectacular scene Evangeline Rohanson had shown, and found a method.

Saraka started by turning the gaze of the knights who were staring persistently in only one direction as if bewitched.

“I don’t understand what Evangeline is saying.”

Her voice was sharp with deep anger. Saraka cleared her throat, worried that the gap with Bishop Marik’s manner of speaking might be noticed. More lovingly and kindly.

“Gentlemen. What are you doing just holding your swords? Why don’t you continue suppressing the heretics?”

At Saraka’s urging, the knights looked back at Saraka as if doubting their ears, thinking they had misheard. One priest bravely stepped forward.

“But Bishop, didn’t you just see it too? An… an angel saved Evangeline as she fell from the spire.”

Saraka almost burst into loud laughter, forgetting her duty. Evangeline… Hadn’t the title become quite respectful in the meantime?

“Moreover, when the angel… appeared, the sun rose again. Isn’t this really a revelation from Rahel saying that the wrong sacrifice was chosen, as Evangeline said? It seems the Bishop really made a… mistake…”

When he pointed out the ‘Bishop’s’ mistake, Saraka immediately snatched the sword from the grip of a knight standing right next to her. The foolish ones were so absorbed in looking at Evangeline with admiration that their hands had gone limp, making it very easy to steal the sword.

And she swung the sword without a moment’s hesitation at the one who dared to spout nonsense.

“Urgh…!”

The priest seemed not to have expected Bishop Marik to swing a sword at him and failed to dodge the blade. Even though he had seen the sword pointed at Gabriel’s neck during the sacrifice, he apparently didn’t think that sword’s tip would turn toward him.

Saraka swung as if to cut his neck but stopped her hand at a precarious position. Since she wasn’t a knight, she couldn’t perfectly control her strength, and the blade had already slightly penetrated his neck, causing blood to seep out.

“Bishop!”

Seeing this, Harut tried to rush forward as if to stop Saraka but was restrained by other priests.

“Are you mad? Even though the Bishop is generally lenient with you, if you step forward now, your head will roll.”

Their necks felt cold, and they were grateful they hadn’t spoken first. Saraka ignored the commotion and asked the priest.

“Don’t you know why I’m pointing this sword at you?”

“Y-yes…”

The priest didn’t have the courage to answer, but if he nodded, the blade would obviously dig deeper. The priest stammered his answer and mustered courage to ask.

“B-Bishop, why… are you doing this…? Did I do something wrong…?”

The priest asked, trembling with fear. It was remarkable that he hadn’t wet himself.

“You don’t even recognize your own mistake…”

Saraka drew out her words as if speaking with genuine regret in mind. And before the priest could really faint, she gave him the answer.

“Father, you have been deceived by an illusion shown by a demon.”

“Il-illusion?”

“An angel appeared to save Evangeline? Evangeline fell from the spire? Unfortunately, I did not see the scene that Father witnessed. Because Evangeline Rohanson was standing here from the beginning.”

Saraka denounced as an illusion the scene she too had witnessed, that everyone in the temple had seen. Evangeline neither interrupted nor refuted Saraka’s words.

Just quietly listening to Saraka’s words, she seemed like an audience member who had come to watch a play. Saraka felt humiliated, as if she were performing tricks for Evangeline’s benefit.

“She definitely fell…”

The priest muttered quietly as if making an excuse. Those words were correct. Evangeline Rohanson had fallen and survived.

However, that must not remain as reality. It had to be a dream. It had to be nothing more than a wicked hallucination shown by Evangeline Rohanson. Saraka tried to bring them back to reality. How long would they keep dreaming?

Fortunately, Saraka had just thought of an appropriate method. Saraka asked the priest gently.

“If Evangeline Rohanson really fell, then how did Father hear her voice?”

“That’s…”

“How could the voice of someone on top of the spire be heard all the way down here, to this place?”

Saraka pressed him with questions, but the priest couldn’t answer immediately. The bell tower stood so tall that even from the temple built on high ground, it seemed to touch the sun when viewed from below.

While bell sounds would naturally be heard, the voice of someone speaking at the tip of the spire could not be heard.

Saraka’s question was logical. That’s why it was effective.

Saraka left the confused priest and called on someone else.

“Count Satanael.”

“Yes, Bishop.”

“What illusion did you see?”

“…”

The knight Saraka had called couldn’t bring himself to speak. Because there was a priest with a sword at his neck right before his eyes.

What she had witnessed was the same illusion as the priest – an angel saving Evangeline Rohanson. The moment she spoke before Bishop Marik, that sword would transfer to her.

When the knight kept her mouth shut, Saraka called another person.

“Priest Ridwan.”

“Y-yes!”

The priest answered with great tension.

“I saw no illusion at all!”

And before Saraka could even ask, he provided the answer she wanted to hear. Saraka called another person.

“Count Jerak.”

“I also saw nothing. Evangeline Rohanson was standing here on the g-ground from the beginning.”

Saraka continued to call several names in succession. The answers they all gave were the same. Either silence, or they denied what they had seen.

When several testimonies mixed together, Evangeline Rohanson became someone who had never even climbed the spire. It was truly ridiculous. They testified that they hadn’t seen the scene that even Saraka had witnessed.

Now Saraka turned her eyes back to the priest she was still pointing the sword at. His complexion had become indescribably wretched. During Saraka’s several rounds of questions and answers, he had realized his fate.

“Father. You saw a scene that we could not see. Yes, just like those heretics.”

Saraka lumped the priest together with the dirty and vile crowd, calling him a heretic.

“Isn’t the reason you saw illusions that the faithful believers could not see because your faith is lacking?”

This time the priest truly couldn’t open his mouth. Because through numerous testimonies, he had become suspicious of himself.

Saraka withdrew the sword from the priest who kept his mouth tightly shut. His usefulness was sufficient with this. From the beginning, Saraka had no intention of getting blood on her own hands directly. Even when the priest’s neck was cut, it would not be Saraka’s hand that did it. As always, the knights would take up swords in Saraka’s place.

“Remember this. The sky was never dark, not even for a moment.”

With this, Saraka had perfectly erased the stain cast upon the name. It worked well on the priests, but the nobles might be different. However, dealing with the nobles was easier. They were the type who would squeeze themselves into a pit if given money, honor, and profit.

Saraka once again specifically called out one knight. It was the only knight who had blood on his hands.

“Arvil. What are you doing?”

The knight momentarily met eyes with Bishop Marik. He felt that something was seriously wrong.

“Since you agreed to take the lead, please, continue.”

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Team. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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