My Possession Became a Ghost Story - Chapter 239

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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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It looked like filth. It was clearly a rotting corpse, yet with the wheezing sound of wind, the filth swelled and deflated repeatedly. With each breath, the dried skin cracked. It looked closer to a disgusting beast than a human.

The eyes were wide open without even being closed, and flies were stuck on the eyeballs. Even when light was brought close, there was no change, so vision was clearly lost.

When one knight mustered courage and brought his hand near what appeared to be nostrils, he felt hot breath.

“…Alive, it’s alive.”

The eyeballs rolled toward the direction of the voice. The knight nearly stopped breathing when the cloudy pupils stared at him. The flies that had briefly flown away in surprise landed back on the face. At least it seemed able to distinguish sounds.

“Dear God…”

Harut muttered, unable to contain his devastation. The lump of filth reacted greatly to Harut’s voice. Of course, because the voice he heard belonged to the child he had cherished.

‘Harut, you came to save me!’

However, Marik soon became very angry at what the priests said.

“Is this the heretic called… Saraka that Priest Harut mentioned?”

How dare they attach that terrible thing’s name to someone! Heretic? It wasn’t simply a heretic. That was a monster.

Marik had initially taken in Saraka to properly use the heretic child. Saraka too, except for that one time she escaped, knew her place and obeyed Marik.

However, from a certain day onward, that thing gradually began to reveal its true nature. It must have been from when Marik summoned the demon.

Ah, right. He had summoned a demon. Unable to endure his increasingly diseased and dying body, he finally… Marik had considerable materials gathered from massacring heretics, so drawing a sorcery circle wasn’t difficult. He easily obtained sacrifices too.

Marik simply wanted to obtain a young, healthy body again. The demon answered that while it couldn’t restore his youth, it was possible to transplant him into another body. Marik happened to have a well-raised body. So he only needed to transfer over.

But the demon betrayed Marik. The heretic child used her cunning tongue to steal the demon away. Saraka robbed Marik of his position, status, and even his name, confining Marik underground while caring for him. Just as Marik had done to Saraka.

Marik’s condition gradually worsened. Having committed the sin of summoning a demon, even holy water didn’t work, so he couldn’t treat his rotting body.

His entire body festered. Yet he couldn’t die. Saraka took extreme care of Marik, keeping him barely alive. As Bishop Marik had once said, cursed beings must repay their sins through life.

But now it would be alright. He would be saved.

Marik realized that Harut had come down to save him. My beautiful child. A lovable child completely different from that terrible heretic in every way.

Marik reached his hand toward Harut. Harut grasped the filthy hand without hesitation.

The priests were moved seeing this scene.

With Bishop Marik’s reputation crumbled, wouldn’t they need a new rising star? Though Evangeline Rohanson was called a saint, she was ultimately an outsider. Harut would be more suitable for restoring the temple’s honor.

A priest who chose faith over sin-stained gifts and ultimately executed the right path would be a good foundation to stabilize the temple’s chaos.

Harut belatedly recalled the priest’s question.

“You’re asking if this is Saraka…?”

They asked if this person seemed like Saraka.

“Well, I’m not sure…”

Harut rather hoped it wasn’t. While he had turned away, just how much abuse had she suffered to be in such a state? His heart felt like it would be torn out from guilt.

“…Kill… Kill me…”

“Saraka, I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you back then and just watched. But not anymore. I’ll definitely save you. I absolutely won’t let you die like this.”

Harut’s eyes welled with tears as he squeezed the hand he held tightly.

“No one in this world will be able to harm you. I promise.”

“I… am… Marik… Kill… me…!”

The filth pleaded.

Though crushed and slow, making it hard to understand, it was certain he was asking them to kill Bishop Marik, no, that demon.

The filth was terrible but equally pitiful. One priest promised with tears in his eyes.

“Yes. We will surely punish the demon that made you like this.”

It was a plea to kill himself, but it wasn’t properly conveyed to anyone. Since suicide was taboo, no believer understood it as asking to kill oneself.

No matter how much he begged to kill Marik, nothing would change. That was no longer the filth’s name.

It would still be unable to die, receiving terrible care while filling out its lifespan in agony.

Just like the child hit by his carriage once begged for help until death, the filth too would beg for salvation until death.

***

A person was rescued from Bishop Marik’s basement. The condition was so horrific that it was miraculous they were alive, and even knights with strong stomachs reportedly vomited after seeing it.

“Hmm… Since holy water doesn’t work on this person, we’ll need to call a healer.”

Though some were displeased about having to treat a heretic in the temple, they seemed to be holding their tongues for now, perhaps fearing being lumped together with Bishop Marik.

Bishop Marik’s entire status crumbled overnight.

Bishop Marik was imprisoned for now, but if all his crimes were revealed through investigation, he wouldn’t escape execution. For the sin of blasphemy against God, he wouldn’t die peacefully.

Bishop Marik’s subordinates would also be dealt with gradually. Just look at Count Jerak being dragged to prison in a daze.

And the vacant positions would be filled by Bishop Jabaniya’s faction.

Well, actually, all these matters didn’t concern a novice priest who just did cleaning.

“Hey, if you’re done cleaning the bell tower, don’t rest and go down to help the Saint!”

“Yes, yes sir!”

The novice priest bowed his head at the scolding and went down from the bell tower. His hands still stung from cleaning up broken bottles. Thanks to the holy water pooled on the floor, no scars remained though.

He carefully went down the stairs while overhearing the priests ahead chattering.

“Did you hear? Viscount Nakir was found with his head cut off? They say he committed suicide as soon as news of Bishop Marik’s downfall reached him.”

“There’s also talk that his subordinates couldn’t stand Nakir’s tyranny and took action, then coordinated their stories?”

“Count Jerak completely lost it. They say he acts like someone possessed by a ghost…”

Names that even he, a novice priest, would know came pouring out. They were all people he would have tried to at least exchange words with originally.

To be precise, he couldn’t join Bishop Marik’s faction even if he wanted to. What business did a mere novice priest have with Bishop Marik, he couldn’t even approach that faction. Wasn’t it fortunate now? Still…

“…I once wanted to become like Bishop Marik…”

He unconsciously muttered his inner thoughts, then realized there was someone right beside him and stumbled in shock.

‘Oh no…! I’m falling!’

He squeezed his eyes shut, then opened them after a while when no pain came, realizing another priest was right in front of him.

‘I’m, I’m alive.’

He almost tumbled down the stairs. Thanks to the priest behind him grabbing and pulling his arm, he barely saved his life.

“You should be careful.”

The priest who caught him let go of his arm.

“…Thank you. No, I mean, what I just said wasn’t now but… before, long before.”

After thanking him, he belatedly corrected his words as if realizing his slip of tongue. Having barely survived, he couldn’t die unjustly from being suspected of heresy. When he made excuses, surprisingly the other person nodded understandingly and calmed him.

“It’s fine. I understand too.”

“Ah…”

It turned out to be Priest Ridwan from Bishop Marik’s faction. He was too flustered to recognize him quickly.

Unlike himself, who had no connections or backing as a novice priest, Ridwan was one of Bishop Marik’s subordinates. Normally, he wouldn’t dare speak to such a person. And unlike himself, he was someone whose downfall was predetermined.

He only now realized that the stories the priests had been telling about how Bishop Marik’s faction was ruined were aimed at Ridwan.

‘If it were me, I would have run away immediately…’

Ridwan seemed quite composed. At least he seemed to have enough presence of mind left to do cleaning. Ridwan glanced at the other priests then quietly spoke.

“I too sincerely respected His Lordship.”

There was quite a distance from the group of priests ahead, so their current conversation probably couldn’t be heard well.

“Actually, I was dissatisfied with Bishop Jabaniya being too worldly, so I tended to distance myself from him more. I thought Bishop Marik was truly suited to be a bishop. I considered him someone upright who followed only God and truth. Have you ever seen him execute heretics?”

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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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