Sister, I Hit You Because There Was a Ghost Behind You - Chapter 57

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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Chapter 57. The Sanctuary Beyond the Mirror
The path burrowing into the heart of the Papal See proved far more treacherous and repulsive than I had anticipated.
During our descent to Basement Level 6, we were forced to mercilessly cut through dozens of mutated beasts and Heretic Inquisitors who had lost all reason.
The Heretic Inquisitors that suddenly emerged from the darkness had long since abandoned any semblance of human form.
Their eyes burned a sickly crimson, and bestial shrieks erupted ceaselessly from their gaping maws.
The weapons that should have gleamed with sacred power instead oozed a viscous, black demonic energy in nauseating torrents.
Each time Kairik von Herzen wielded his razor-sharp claws with brutal force, blood sprayed in all directions with sickening bursts of sound.
He stood as an impenetrable barrier before me, moving with bestial grace as he severed the life from every approaching enemy in a single stroke.
Kairik shook the dark crimson blood from his claws with a low growl.
“They’ve laid their traps thick as thieves. These vermin have sealed the inner chambers with infuriating precision. They’re truly hastening their own demise with such desperation.”
Standing behind him, I opened my fan and offered a light rebuke.
“Rather than complain, why not dispatch a few more of them, Your Majesty? Do be careful not to splatter that filthy blood upon my precious gown.”
“Fear not, Violetta. Stay close behind me and I shall ensure not a speck of dust touches you. Even if a hundred of these vermin came swarming, they couldn’t lay a finger on a single hair of mine.”
Kairik von Herzen laughed with supreme confidence, crushing the skull of an oncoming beast beneath his heel.
Demian Lyart likewise purified the murky blood clinging to his holy blade, speaking with chilling clarity.
“This place is no longer the Holy Sanctuary of the Goddess. It is merely a grotesque tomb stained with corruption and arrogance. Once I prayed alongside these wretches… How utterly tragic it has become.”
His voice carried the profound betrayal and sorrow of one who had devoted his entire life to this faith.
Those he had just cut down may well have been faithful subordinates who, not long ago, called him Knight Commander and followed him with blind devotion.
Yet Demian’s firmly pressed lips and the tip of his holy blade betrayed not the slightest hesitation.
“There is no time for sorrow, Demian. They are already nothing more than irredeemable monsters.”
As I spoke words of comfort, Demian smiled faintly, his face drained of color.
“I understand. I shall suppress the surging grief within me and wield this blade with singular resolve—to protect you and utterly eradicate the roots of heresy.”
I placed my hand silently upon his solid shoulders and quickened our pace.
At the end of Basement Level 7, exactly as the Cardinal had promised, stood an immense mirror that dominated the entire wall.
The frame of the mirror was intricately carved with grotesque demonic forms of exquisite and terrible craftsmanship.
The carved demons seemed to writhe with life, gleaming with an eerie crimson luster.
Those grotesque forms appeared to leer down at us from the void, sending chills racing down my spine.
The mirror’s surface reflected no light, instead holding only the pitch-black darkness of an endless abyss.
I withdrew the crude iron ring I had taken from my possession and spoke.
“So this is the mirror. Shall we verify whether the Cardinal’s words were indeed truthful?”
As I brought the iron ring close to the mirror’s surface, the pitch-black glass began to ripple with crimson light.
A grotesque phenomenon unfolded, as if a heavy stone had been cast upon still water, sending waves across its surface.
The once-solid mirror melted away like viscous blood, opening a horrifying passage through which we could advance.
Kairik von Herzen positioned himself before me, growling low.
“Violetta, stay close behind me. Who knows what abominable creature might be waiting with gaping jaws beyond that threshold. If you receive even a single scratch, I shall tear this rotten cathedral from its very foundations.”
Demian likewise held his holy blade without the slightest retreat, standing firmly at my side.
“I shall lead the way and cleave through all demonic energy. Please preserve yourself, Your Majesty. My sacred shield would prove far safer than his crude and brutish methods.”
“Even in this dire moment, your tongue wags endlessly, you sanctimonious fool. Just open the path.”
“And you, Your Majesty, refrain from thrashing about like a beast and endangering Violetta.”
Flanked by the steadfast and suffocating vigilance of these two formidable beasts, I carefully stepped beyond the crimson-rippling mirror into the unknown.
The moment I passed through the mirror, a nauseating stench assaulted my nostrils, accompanied by a suffocating deluge of malevolent energy that made my skin crawl.
The acrid reek—as though I had plunged naked into a swamp brimming with putrefied blood and filth—pierced through my lungs with sickening intensity.
As a virulent miasma of such magnitude crashed down upon me, utterly eclipsing the calamities I had faced before, I furrowed my brow and released a sharp gasp.
My vision blurred in dizzying spirals, and a wave of nauseating vertigo surged upward.
In that fleeting instant, Demian Lyart closed the distance and wrapped his arms firmly around me from behind.
The cool, refreshing essence of the forest emanating from his chest enveloped my entire being, instantly purifying the excruciating headache that had threatened to consume me.
Demian whispered urgently against my ear, his voice trembling with profound concern.
“Breathe deeply and lean upon my sacred power. His aura is far too turbid and perilous. I shall bear all the suffering—please, find solace in your breathing.”
At that tender touch, Kairik von Herzen’s eyes snapped wide open as he positioned himself protectively before me.
Though he cast a sharp, warning glance toward Demian Lyart, Kairik’s primary concern remained my safety, and he surveyed our surroundings with lethal vigilance.
He slashed his keen claws through the air and spoke with a feral growl.
“Knight Commander, purification is your domain. I shall focus on tearing out the throat of that hideous old wretch ahead. Violetta, hold on just a moment longer. I’ll sever that foul rat’s breath with my own fangs.”
“Thanks to both of your absolutely suffocating overprotection, my headache has vanished entirely. Don’t worry—I have no intention of playing the passive victim here.”
Within the perfect coordination of these two and their unwavering devotion to my protection, my spiritual sight blazed clear and luminous once more.
The Sanctuary concealed beyond the mirror was a grotesque and magnificent space—as though the Grand Cathedral of the Papal See had been inverted and twisted into something profane.
Crucifixes hung inverted from the ceiling, swaying with an unsettling, discordant screech.
The sacred statues adorning the walls wept crimson tears instead of radiating compassion, gleaming with sinister brilliance beneath the blood-red illumination.
The stained glass windows, which should have been beautiful, lay shattered into fragments that coalesced into the warped visage of a demon.
This was no longer a holy sanctuary devoted to the divine—it was unmistakably an infernal altar meticulously designed for the worship of demons.
And at the center of that abominable space, upon a towering altar draped in crimson velvet, an elderly figure knelt with a gaunt silhouette.
Upon his head sat an ornate, towering crown, and a pristine white vestment trailed behind him across the floor.
It was the visage of The Pope—the absolute sovereign who governed all faith across the continent.
Yet the image of The Pope reflected in my spiritual sight bore no resemblance whatsoever to holiness or virtue.
Behind him coiled a shadow of The Mastermind—infinitely more colossal and abominable than the five calamities I had previously gathered—writhing in grotesque contortions.
That shadow, as though countless wronged souls had been forcibly bound together, twisted ceaselessly, releasing silent screams.
The true form of The Pope was the most bizarre and repugnant monstrosity ever spawned by human greed and lust for power.
In that moment, it became undeniably clear: the true Mastermind who sought to annihilate the continent was none other than the head of the Papal See.
Demian Lyart’s face drained of color as he spoke, his voice trembling with disbelief.
“Your Holiness… could it truly be that you orchestrated all these abominable heretical acts? Were the goddess’s mercy and love that you preached through your own lips nothing but hypocrisy?”
The elderly figure kneeling upon the altar slowly turned his head to regard us.
His face was little more than skin stretched over bone, withered into a skeletal visage, and his complexion bore the sickly, corpse-like pallor of death.
His eyes were no longer those of a human—they blazed with the terrifying gaze of a Greed Demon, glittering with endless avarice and madness.
The Pope laughed with a voice like tearing fabric, speaking in grotesque tones.
“Oh, my beloved children blessed by the goddess. At last you have come to surrender those five keys to me. Did you truly believe that some goddess could save this world? Only I shall obtain true power and rewrite this rotting continent anew!”
As The Pope spread his withered arms wide into the empty air, the entire Sanctuary convulsed as though seized by a catastrophic earthquake.
The dense malevolent energy pouring from his mouth transformed into the tentacles of a colossal serpent, lashing out in all directions with lethal ferocity.
The Pope fixed his covetous gaze upon us, licking his lips as he shrieked.
“I have waited centuries! When all five calamities converge, I shall shed this fragile human shell and be reborn as a true immortal sovereign! Offer your blood and flesh as my sacrifice!”
His maddened cry echoed through the Sanctuary’s walls with spine-chilling resonance.
In the end, we had been lured into this infernal abyss to serve as sacrifices for the completion of his accursed immortality.
Kairik bared his fangs with a predatory snarl, his claws extending to their fullest length as he laughed with savage contempt.
“Surrender the key? Offer yourself as a sacrifice? The old fool’s mind has truly rotted away. Spouting nonsense about immortality like a senile wretch. Your pathetic delusion will be shredded to ribbons beneath my claws today. I’ll tear that gaudy throat of yours clean off—so wash your neck and wait for me.”
Demian, too, cast off shock and despair with perfect composure, his face frozen in glacial resolve as he leveled the holy sword directly forward and spoke his declaration.
“You are no longer the Goddess’s representative. You are nothing but a vile evil spirit that seeks to devour the world—nothing more, nothing less. Today, I will sever that filthy thread of life with my own hands and deliver judgment in the true name of the Holy Sanctuary.”
I reached into my spatial pouch and withdrew a heavy mana hammer, settling it casually across my shoulder.
The fierce killing intent radiating from both men, combined with the azure mana blazing from my hammer, stretched the grotesque air of the Sanctuary taut as a bowstring.
The Mastermind before us was more formidable and vast than any enemy I had faced before, yet not a shred of fear remained in my heart.
I stepped forward with a smile that was both infinitely merciful and utterly merciless.
“Your Majesty, have you offered enough prayers to Hell before dreaming of immortality? From where I stand, it seems woefully insufficient. I’m planning to deliver a rather merciless physical retribution to that empty head of yours today.”

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