Bab 112: Chapter 112: Valak (Edited)
Despite not having a psychic constitution, the spread of magical power in her eyes was no less potent.
Points of light, radiating with a pure glow, gradually formed a human figure in York's eyes.
Before long, a nun in black habits, aged with a face full of wrinkles, appeared beside her corpse.
She glanced at her body, now blasted to fragments, a look of regret in her eyes, then turned to Eileen, who could see her and had a spiritual aura, showing a hint of warmth. She then looked at Hill, puzzled but seemingly able to sense her presence, and finally, her gaze rested on the quietly standing York.
She clasped her hands and bowed slightly.
"Father, after hundreds of years, you have finally come."
Hearing this, a trace of pity appeared in York's eyes. Being imprisoned for hundreds of years was a concept he was unfamiliar with, but just the thought of a few years was unbearable for him.
Even so, the old nun could not be freed yet. The final step remained: for him to personally expel the demon and perform a soul blessing.
Eileen was indeed a psychic and a nun, but she was just a novice. Her prayers served as a lure, notifying the other nuns and the demon, signaling their arrival...
"Young priest, you need not be overly sorrowful," the old nun, radiating a holy light, said with a smile to the young priest.
"This is the destiny of our Saint Cata Monastery, and my destiny was to wait here for you."
Hearing this, York raised his eyebrows slightly.
"What do you mean?"
The old nun, clad in a black habit and wearing a nun's hood, did not answer but instead turned the conversation elsewhere.
"Saint Cata Monastery was established during the dark ages, with countless nuns coming here voluntarily to pray day and night to suppress the gates of hell..."
This was the information he knew. York, unfazed, let the old nun speak. A spirit maintaining such behavior and sanity was already remarkable.
However, Eileen listened intently, her expression becoming exceptionally serious.
"Unfortunately, life has its limits. Despite our willingness, negative emotions still arise. The demon lurking in the darkness has always been drawing on our negative emotions, becoming stronger over time..."
The old nun spoke, a look of reminiscence on her face. She instinctively walked towards a small candle niche in the wall, only to realize she was just a spirit and couldn't touch anything.
Eileen, observing and understanding, immediately went over, mimicking the old nun's action, picking up the tinderbox below.
However, the tinderbox, a product of the 13th century, was damp and unusable after such a long time.
"Child, thank you for your kindness, but this is no longer usable," the old nun said with some regret.
Eileen pursed her lips, looking towards the always quietly standing priest, wanting to fulfill the old nun's wish.
York nodded with a smile, looking towards the quiet Hill.
"Hill."
He knew Hill and his father, Father Mike, were old smokers.
"Alright, Father."
Without any other aid, Hill, though unable to see, knew what was happening. He took out a fancy lighter from his pocket and lit the waxy niche, then moved to light another...
Both candles flickered to life, illuminating the entire stone chamber.
"Thank you very much."
The old nun thanked them and naturally walked towards the desk inside, continuing the unfinished story.
"Until now, His power has become stronger. Our abbess realized this and wanted to use the remaining blood of Jesus to strengthen the seal. Unfortunately, she was eroded by the demon's increasingly powerful force before completing the last step..."
The nun's voice wavered slightly as she spoke.
"We managed to control the abbess but couldn't withstand the demon's invasion, leaving only that poor child..."
Her simple words revealed a harsh reality. Eileen silently clasped the cross on her chest.
Only York narrowed his eyes, suspecting that the last child might be the suicide, but he noticed a loophole.
"So, the remaining blood of Jesus is missing?"
As soon as these words were spoken, before Hill could react, the old nun nodded.
"The abbess hid it somewhere else before being eroded. Unfortunately, we don't know where, otherwise..."
As she spoke, her form nearly faded away. She looked up at the always calm young priest.
"I'm sorry, Father, I can't help you with the blood of Jesus."
Hearing this, York was about to shake his head to indicate it was alright, but the old nun continued.
"However, I've also found some information, the demon's accomplice language, hoping it might help you."
After saying this, she gestured towards a dusty book on the desk, clasping her hands and bowing her head before dissipating into motes of light.
The chamber returned to silence, illuminated only by the dim candlelight.
Compared to Hill, who was absorbing the conversation about the blood of Jesus, Eileen, with her hands clasped in front of her chest, looked at the dispersing light motes, feeling a surge of sadness.
York glanced at her and comforted, "They will be liberated and return to the embrace of the Lord."
"Yes."
Eileen took a deep breath, putting away her complex emotions, and nodded seriously.
Seeing this, York looked towards the now invisible light motes and walked towards the desk.
The desk was cluttered, but a book and a folded piece of paper were placed very neatly.
Ignoring the paper, York picked up the dusty book, shaking off the dust as he read.
In the dim light, he saw an abstract image of a demon connected to related patterns in the book he had just flipped open.
A winged child riding a two-headed, winged dragon.
Next to the image was a passage in ancient language...
"Father York, have you found anything?" Hill, holding a SHAK-12, asked, alert yet curious.
"The Defiler..."
York narrowed his eyes, reading the text recorded inside.
"Blasphemer, Marquis of Snakes, servant of the King of Fear, grants true knowledge and skill in uncovering inner fears..."
As he spoke, York paused, instantly recalling a demon documented in the secret chamber, choosing to recite silently in his mind.
"Valak!"
With that, York, fully prepared, calmly put down the book.
Looking around as the space around the desk transformed.
Gazing into the abyss, and being gazed at by the abyss.
York knew what would happen after reciting that name.
The surrounding area still resembled a stone chamber.
Four ancient load-bearing pillars made of giant stones supported the platform above.
In the center was an altar, and finally, York saw the nun.
She was sitting on a stone chair with her head bowed, surrounded by formally dressed nuns in black habits, silently wailing.
Their faces were unclear, but York could feel the pain of these nuns.
This was the accumulated negative emotions and pain of the nuns of Saint Cata Monastery over hundreds of years...
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