The Cowardly Baby Saint Sees Ghosts - Chapter 80

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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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# Episode 80.
Seria’s testimony did not end in a single day.
The Pope assigned two scribes to record every word she spoke without omission.
I remained at her side, offering what comfort I could as she recounted her ordeal.
“Please, take your time. If it becomes too much, you can stop whenever you need to.”
At my request, Seria nodded faintly and began to search through her memories.
“I don’t remember the exact name of the place where I was born. Only that I could always see gray mountain ridges through the windows, and the winters were unusually long and bitterly cold.”
Seria paused to collect herself, then continued.
“There were many children there, children around my age, living together. I don’t recall exactly how many. But I’m certain that their numbers grew fewer as time passed.”
“What happened to them?”
At my question, the light in Seria’s eyes dimmed.
“Periodically, they administered injections to us. The substance was unknown. After each injection, my entire body felt like it was on fire. Then I would suffer high fevers for days, vomiting repeatedly.”
Seria’s hands began to tremble slightly.
“The children who couldn’t endure that process disappeared one by one. They were called ‘failed products.’ They never came back.”
As I listened, I felt the blood drain from my fingertips. The Pope, sitting beside me, had also furrowed his brow deeply.
“Do you know what the purpose of these experiments was?”
The Pope asked.
“I didn’t understand the true purpose for a long time. I could do nothing but endure. But one time…”
Seria fell silent and closed her eyes, as if recalling something.
“I accidentally overheard the people conducting the experiments speaking about me.”
“What did they say?”
I asked carefully, and Seria drew the memory forth with great effort.
“‘With this level of compatibility, she can serve as a vessel.’ That’s what they said. At first, I didn’t understand what it meant. But after that, the way the experiments proceeded began to change subtly.”
“How?”
“Before that, they simply injected the drug and observed whether my body could withstand it. But afterward, they began attempting to force Holy Power directly into my body.”
At those words, the Pope’s face turned rigid in an instant.
“Force Holy Power into you?”
“Yes. I don’t know exactly how they did it. But among the tools they used, there was something resembling a Sacred Relic from the Temple. Except it was twisted somehow. The color was murky, and the energy I felt from touching it was different.”
Seria shivered slightly as the sensation from that time returned to her.
“Every time they used that tool, my body felt as though it was burning. Is Holy Power always so painful?”
The Pope had no answer. For the first time, genuine consternation settled across his features.
“No. Normal Holy Power would not cause such suffering.”
“…”
“Then it must have been forced into you through some twisted method. Your body wasn’t prepared to receive it, so they pushed it in by force.”
“And there was something else they said.”
Seria continued carefully.
“‘For one to become a Saint, the body must first become a vessel.’ That’s what they said. For a long time, I didn’t understand what it meant. But now, looking back…”
Seria’s voice dropped lower.
“It seems they were trying to make me into a Saint. Or rather, something resembling a Saint.”
As those words fell, a heavy silence descended upon the room.
I felt my entire body break out in goosebumps.
A Saint was a being determined at birth.
It was God who chose them directly and granted Holy Power to their body—not something that could be artificially created.
At least, that was what I had been taught, and what I had always believed.
“Is such a thing even possible?”
I asked, my voice trembling. The Pope remained silent for a long time.
“Ordinarily, it would be impossible. Holy Power is a blessing bestowed by God, not something humans can create. But if…”
The Pope’s face grew darker than ever before.
“If they attempted to artificially replicate it by defying God’s will. If that process involved sacrificing countless children as Seria has described…”
The Pope could not continue and fell silent for a long moment.
“This is not the work of a mere cult. This is an attempt to counterfeit divine power and artificially fashion a vessel. In itself, it is the gravest sin—a desecration of the sacred.”
“But why me?”
Seria whispered helplessly.
“I was just an abandoned child. Why did they choose me for such experiments?”
“None of this is your fault, Seria.”
I gently took her hand as I spoke.
Yet even as I reassured her, countless questions churned within my own mind.
‘Why a Saint, specifically? Did they truly want the Saint’s power itself? Or…’
Suddenly, a chilling thought struck me.
‘Could they have been trying to create something to replace the real Saint?’
I forced the thought aside and turned back to Seria with another question.
“Could you tell me a bit more about how the experiment proceeded exactly? What tools did they use? What ritual did they perform?”
Seria nodded with visible effort, reaching back into her memories.
“They laid me down, and then placed that twisted Sacred Relic on my chest. And the people around me kept chanting something in a language I couldn’t understand. It felt similar to the prayers we say at the Temple, but the voice was much lower and heavier.”
“And each time they performed that ritual, did you feel any changes in your body?”
“At first, it was just painful. But as they repeated it over and over, my body gradually began to accept that power. And from around that time, I developed that sensation I mentioned earlier—the ability to feel warmth or cold in empty air.”
The Pope’s face grew steadily paler as he listened.
“If that’s the case, then that sensation Seria gained might also be the result of failing to fully accept Holy Power, awakening only a twisted fragment of it.”
……
“The power that originally descends upon a Saint includes the strength to comfort the dead and guide them toward the righteous path. That sensation Seria feels might be nothing more than a tiny fragment of that power.”
Hearing those words, I felt my heart sink heavily.
The strange sensation Seria carried was not merely a side effect—it was the result of sacred power forcibly, and imperfectly, transplanted into her. That realization chilled me far more than any explanation could.
‘What could they possibly have been thinking to do such a thing.’
Whether it was the arrogance of trying to mimic the divine, or something else entirely,
I couldn’t say for certain.
But one thing was unmistakable.
The roots of this affair ran far deeper and darker than I had initially imagined.
“I’m truly sorry, Seria, but I need to ask you one more thing.”
At my question, Seria fixed me with exhausted eyes.
“Did you ever hear anything about the final goal the experiment was meant to achieve? What they intended to do if it succeeded?”
Seria fell silent for a long time.
Then, in barely a whisper, she answered.
“I don’t know the details. But I heard one thing, just once. ‘When this is complete, we will have our own Saint.’ That’s all they said.”
At those words, the air in the room froze entirely.
The last trace of color drained from the Pope’s face.
“Our own Saint,” he murmured.
The Pope spoke the words again, quietly.
“Then this isn’t simply an attempt to gain power. It’s an attempt to create something that could rival—or replace—the Saint of the Temple.”
A chill ran through my entire body at those words.
A different kind of fear, distinct from the pity I felt for Seria, seemed to slowly tighten around my throat.
The testimony continued long after that.
But neither the Pope nor I could properly hear what came next.
My mind was entirely consumed by that single phrase I had just heard.
‘Our own Saint.’
After the long testimony ended, Seria collapsed into her seat, utterly drained.
I remained at her side, never loosening my grip on her hand.
“Thank you, Seria. I know this was difficult, but thank you for seeing it through to the end.”
“No, I’m the one who’s grateful. Thank you for listening to everything.”
As I looked at Seria, I made myself a silent promise once more.
Whatever the truth of this affair turned out to be, and whatever awaited at the end of it, I would uncover it all.

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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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