June 6, 1991, Early Morning
Britain, Chelmsford, Basement of an Abandoned Manor
In the dimly lit basement, mountains of religious texts emitted a stale odor.
The only light source was a ghost, emanating a faint blue glow.
At this moment, the ghost was hunched over a dilapidated table, meticulously reading a thick, ancient book.
Its form was quite peculiar; it had no facial features or hair, its head merely a blurry, glowing sphere.
It wore no clothing or markings, its simple silhouette resembling a stick figure.
It flipped through the book, occasionally lowering its head to record something in a notebook with a bone-made pen.
Strangely, it would sometimes pull out another ancient book from its translucent body.
It would quickly flip through a few pages, then casually stuff it back inside, as if its body connected to a library.
After a while, the recording was finally complete.
Gathering all the scattered books back into its body, the ghost then carefully retrieved two items.
A peculiarly styled book and a bottle of viscous, dark red liquid.
It meticulously arranged the book and the bottle on the table.
The entire process was exceptionally gentle, as if even a slightly larger movement would harm these items.
It opened the peculiar book.
The pages were filled with dense content, with only the last page blank.
"Phew~" A long sigh.
The ghost lowered its head and began to concentrate fully on transcribing the contents of its notebook onto the book.
Every word was repeatedly checked, every stroke pondered over again and again.
Time flowed silently in focused concentration; the midday sun could not penetrate the thick ground to reach this place.
The last stroke slowly descended.
The moment the pen tip left the paper, the book suddenly burst forth with an eerie pink light!
The light flashed and vanished.
Looking at the book again, its appearance had changed.
The cover, originally made of dark pomegranate wood, now gleamed with an indescribably dark pink luster.
An indescribable fragrance permeated the basement, like the hormonal scent secreted by young lovers, or the faint, sweet aroma of lilies and roses.
This scent was so potent that even the ghost, which had no sense of smell, could 'perceive' it.
Its fingertips slid across the pages, feeling not the roughness of paper but the warmth and delicacy of living skin; upon closer inspection, it could even faintly detect a subtle pulse!
The bone-made pen also vanished into thin air.
On the book's cover, a white inverted heptagram slowly emerged.
Seven, the number that permeates the mystical fields of religion, astrology, and alchemy, now appeared in its most fallen form.
The inverted heptagram.
It pointed to the Seven Deadly Sins, inextricably linked to humanity!
"Finally... it's a success!"
The ghost's voice trembled with excitement.
It eagerly opened the book.
The text within had deformed and twisted into a bizarre script.
However, it could understand its meaning without any hindrance!
Only the first page of the entire book could be opened; the rest seemed to be firmly sealed by an invisible force.
"I truly am a genius!"
The ghost burst into sharp, maniacal laughter, spinning wildly in the air like a top.
"Although my soul was stolen... but! Who would have thought! I could actually craft a demon book by hand! Hahaha! I'm so awesome! Hahaha!"
The laughter abruptly ceased. The ghost, which had been laughing maniacally a second ago, became completely still the next.
The ghost hovered in the air, its voice devoid of any emotion, as if it had become a different person.
"Alright, time to test the results."
Perhaps, this was the consequence of losing its soul.
"Jianjiang! The Holy Face of Oviedo! The Veil of Veronica! The Virgin's Turban and Belt! And! The Shroud of Turin!!!"
It deliberately drew out its words, shouting in the tone of Doraemon pulling out gadgets.
As it spoke, it conjured, as if by magic, tattered pieces of cloth from its chest, carelessly piling them on the ground.
"Have you all grown tired of staying in churches all these years?"
It spoke to the cloth, as if to itself, yet also as if conversing with it.
"Aren't you happy to be of use to me now?"
Clap!
The ghost clapped its hands together with a crisp sound, then slammed them onto the pile of cloth!
Blinding white light suddenly erupted, instantly engulfing the pile of rags.
When the light dissipated, only a three-meter-square piece of plain white cloth, of peculiar texture, remained on the ground.
Immediately after, it pulled out a yellowed arm bone from its body.
"Jianjiang! The Arm Bone of Saint Paul!"
It was still that comical Doraemon voice.
The ghost's fingers caressed the surface of the arm bone.
Feeling the traces of magic within.
It couldn't help but let out a sneer.
"How ironic..."
It muttered in a low voice.
"A Wizard, who was one of the Twelve Apostles, and has been worshipped by Christians for over a thousand years."
"Wasn't the witch hunt initiated by these very Christians?"
Putting aside its mockery, the ghost's movements became swift and efficient.
It successively took out a piece of wood from Jesus' crucifixion cross, Jesus' crown of thorns, the Holy Grail used by Jesus, and a small bottle of fresh lamb's blood.
"Fortunately, you are all imbued with strong power of faith, otherwise I truly wouldn't know how to collect you."
The ghost mumbled, its gaze sweeping over these legendary holy relics.
It cleared its non-existent throat, imitating the actions of a famous trainer, dramatically raising its right arm back, then throwing it forward.
"Go! Will-o'-the-wisp! I choose you!"
A ball of faint blue flame flew from its palm, landing precisely on the pile of holy relics.
The flames licked the holy relics, but they did not turn to ash; instead, they melted and deformed in the blue flames, finally converging into a thick, black liquid.
The ghost telekinetically guided the black liquid into the Holy Grail, sealing the remaining portion in a pre-prepared glass jar for preservation.
Then, it poured the lamb's blood into the Holy Grail and pulled out a rusty iron nail to serve as a stirring rod.
If an expert were present, they would surely recognize that this iron nail was one of the legendary "Holy Nails" that pierced Jesus' hands and feet.
The iron nail stirred in the cup, and the two liquids quickly mixed evenly, turning into an even deeper black.
The ghost casually stuffed the glass jar and iron nail back into its body, as if its body were a four-dimensional pocket.
It flexed its translucent fingers, then picked up the Holy Grail with its left hand, while pulling out a soft wool brush with its right.
"I am a painter, a great painter..."
Humming an off-key song, the ghost floated above the large white cloth, dipping the brush into the liquid in the cup and beginning to draw the summoning array.
This process was extremely intricate; every stroke contained power and constraint.
Time quietly slipped away, and when the last stroke was completed, the manor outside the basement was already bathed in the dim yellow of the setting sun.
The summoning array consisted of five layers, nested within each other.
Outer layer: A large circle, representing the boundary of binding and control.
Second layer: A heptagon, symbolizing the seven virtues, serving as the bars of the cage.
Third layer: A heptagram, used to trace the source.
Fourth layer: An inverted heptagon, corresponding to the seven deadly sins as the target.
Center: An inverted pentagram, the core hub of the entire ritual.
Between each layer, dense, twisted runes were inscribed.
The summoning array emitted an extremely unsettling aura.
Holiness and defilement, order and chaos, a bizarre fusion that was nauseatingly contradictory.
"So tired..."
The ghost looked at the completely empty Holy Grail in its hand, clearly letting out a sigh of relief.
"Good thing one cup was enough, otherwise I really wouldn't know where to get fresh lamb's blood."
"Next are the sacrifices."
It complained while placing a frozen, rock-hard lamb leg in the center of the summoning array.
"Lambs have such strong symbolic meaning, why can't they be summoned directly? Is it because there are too many sheep in this world, without a clear target?"
It sequentially placed seven thick white candles at the seven key nodes on the outer perimeter of the summoning array.
"Ready! Let's begin!"
The ghost held the demon book in its left hand.
Its right hand waved in the air towards the cluster of candles.
Seven candles simultaneously ignited with pink flames.
Obscure, twisted, and syllabically broken incantations, completely unlike human language, flowed from the ghost's mouth.
Each syllable carried power, striking the air.
When the last twisted note fell.
Buzz—!
In the summoning array, the part representing lust and chastity suddenly burst forth with dazzling light!
The light dissipated, and thick black mist surged from the center of the summoning array, but it was confined within the array by the outer circle, not a single wisp escaping to the outside.
Within the swirling black mist, a blurry, humanoid black shadow slowly condensed and stood up. Its outline twisted unsteadily in the mist.
"Who... is calling me?" The shadow's voice was like thousands of different-toned whispers overlapping, carrying hollowness and reverberation.
"I am lust, I am chastity, I am depravity, I am loyalty, I am..."
The voice suddenly hitched.
The shadow seemed to look down at its hand, and then, that overlapping, majestic voice instantly broke.
In its place was an expression of incredible shock and anger.
"Wha... What the hell! So small! Why am I so small?!"