freenovelworld Chapter 142. The Great Sin Ritual to Seal a Demon
Chapter 142. The Great Sin Ritual to Seal a Demon
“How should I help?” Yulia asked softly, obediently.Despite hearing Aiwass intended to extract the demon within her—a process current knowledge deemed fatal to the host—she harbored no doubt.
Not because she believed Aiwass possessed such advanced techniques, but because she trusted, from the depths of her heart, that he would never harm her.
They’d grown up together, inseparable through their darkest, loneliest moments. Though not bound by blood, their trust surpassed most familial bonds.
“Take out the amulet, Yuli,” Aiwass said, accepting the still-warm charm with a smile. “Curious about what’s inside?”
“I think it’s a Flame Essence,” Yulia analyzed earnestly. “Based on its thickness, stable warmth, and heat intensity, the main material is likely Flame Essence infused with fire mana.
It has a faint spicy sensation, suggesting ginger or cinnabar as a sustaining component. But it doesn’t feel scalding after storing heat, so it probably includes ruby or amber for stability, or perhaps sapphire for a calming effect.”
Her voice was soft, almost fairy-like, but her words were calm and rational.
“You’re a genius, Yuli,” Aiwass praised without reservation.
Her ability to deduce materials from mere contact didn’t surprise him. Yulia was always this rational and mature, her soft demeanor around him merely playful affection.
He’d seen her study, meticulously taking notes in different-colored pens, her handwriting neat and elegant.
When discussing academic matters with their foster father, she was serious, her delicate face composed, pen never stopping as she recorded.
Her bedroom lacked toys. While girls of the era loved dollhouses, Yulia’s only toy was a strange bear, split and sewn back together.
Beyond books and notes, her room held items unusual for her age: top-tier alchemy tools, a telescope, circuit components, and woodworking tools. She’d crafted her own bookshelves, carved with intricate patterns.
She’d once been fascinated by bicycles but, limited by her frail body and status as a lady, couldn’t ride. Instead, she built an elven-style bicycle model, its wheels spinning when pedaled by hand.
“After today, you’ll be free of this body,” Aiwass said earnestly, pulling two tarot cards—stuck face-to-face, appearing blank—from the amulet.
He held the card with his right thumb and index finger, ensuring (upright) was above and (reversed) below, motioning Yulia to mirror him.
It was time.
Aiwass took a deep breath, a flicker of nerves surfacing.
This concerned Yulia’s safety. She trusted him completely, calm and serene, but he felt the weight of responsibility.
He had to stay composed.
He began channeling mana steadily.
After ten points, the card grew scorching, glowing red like heated iron.
As he poured in more fire mana, the mundane tarot card burned to ash.
Yet an invisible tether seemed to connect Aiwass and Yulia, their fingers grasping something in the void as golden-red light flowed back and forth.
With more mana, Aiwass chanted softly: “I beseech the Candlekeeper, God of the Holy Number Three, God of Thorn-Bound Sin, God of Burning Light Against Darkness.
—I solemnly call upon You!
Watch over the fire of my soul, as You guard the candle in the corner.”
His chant continued.
“I beseech the Fallen Celestial.”
His voice rose sharply, proclaiming, “Celestial of Great Sin, Celestial of the Fallen—
I acknowledge my sins and accept the Brand of Sloth!”
By invoking two conflicting prayers, the ritual collapsed instantly.
Great Sin Scholars were rarely priests, lacking prayer arts.
The ritual’s completion drew a presence, but its collapse avoided alerting the Nine Pillar Gods or Fallen Celestial, like a call hung up before connecting.
As the prayer failed, two opposing forces surged into the card—a punishment, but also a power.
The Great Sin Ritual harnessed both the Nine Pillar Gods’ might to suppress demons and the Great Sin’s power to seal them.
The Candlekeeper’s radiant, searing aura flowed from Aiwass’s eyes, bursting them into bleeding tears.
A deep crimson aura, channeled through him, poured into the phantom tether’s upper end.
The Fallen Celestial’s cold, dark aura rose, guided by Aiwass to form a tray beneath.
Black and red energies intertwined, tuning chaotically. A scorching storm roared outward, forcing Lily to retreat, shielding her face.
As Aiwass continued injecting mana into the void, the demon within Yulia stirred.
Her red eyes flared brightly, her expression shifting. “What are you doing?”
The Butterfly of Paradoxical Flame sensed a dire threat.
A powerful suction emanated from the void between their fingertips, familiar yet warm.
“Yulia” glared fiercely at Aiwass, but her expression lacked menace.
Soon, it turned pitiful. “Save me, Brother, I’m going to die—”
“You won’t die. Neither you nor Yulia,” Aiwass replied softly, unwavering.
He called the demon’s name: “Butterfly of Paradoxical Flame!
I summon you by name, branding you with Sloth!
My life is your life, my fate is your fate—
Obey me, Demon of the Devotion Path!”
His voice boomed, godlike in authority.
The Fallen Celestial’s aura shifted, pushing toward Yulia.
A mere bridge of dark mana connected their souls.
A crimson phantom chain emerged from Aiwass’s heart, piercing Yulia’s.
Forged from his soul and fate—his fragile, lived experiences—it resonated with the demon.
In that moment, Aiwass’s vision blackened.
He saw flashes—hallucinations or Yulia’s memories, left by the Butterfly controlling her body.
Most were of Yulia, gasping, curled in corners, coughing. Her clothes and blankets charred black, steam rising from her body.
Others showed flames bursting uncontrollably, butterfly-winged flame streams forming behind her.
He saw a familiar warehouse—the site of an explosion case.
Yulia stumbled forward, her body cracked like shattered porcelain, coughing violently, expelling dark red powder.
The powder floated like butterfly scales or ruby fragments, beautiful red stars in the dark warehouse.
They absorbed flame streams from her cracks, growing brighter.
When dense and bright enough, they exploded.
Yulia was blasted back, collapsing.
Her back struck hard, she curled in pain, coughing. No blood came—only red powder and flickering flames.
Her suppressed coughs echoed in Aiwass’s ears.
“I want… to be healthy…”
Her heavy voice rasped. “I want to live…”
His vision plunged into darkness.
In it, Yulia lay naked, curled in a crimson crystal, like a blood-filled shell, cracked and patched with silver runes, barely holding it together.
Her body bore gruesome wounds, blood seeming to both flow from and quench the flames within.
“I’m here to save you,” Aiwass murmured, heart trembling. “I made it in time, Yuli.
You’ll live. I swear.”
In the void, his phantom hand gently pressed the red crystal.
(Chapter End)