Endless Debt Chapter 1167 - 22: Asceticism

"You are one of the wicked, destined for subjugation!"

This unexpected declaration caught the man off guard, as he had been quite content with their encounter that night.

"So, you're saying that one day, you will eliminate me—the one who bestowed upon you a second chance at life, along with the very power I granted?"

York remained silent, merely pulling at the chains binding him and rising resolutely. For a fleeting moment, the man found it difficult to recognize the figure before him.

Gami had interred a kind, albeit naive, Priest alive, inadvertently unearthing a monster consumed by pure fury.

"I eagerly anticipate that day," the man stated, a deep sense of pleasure evident in his voice, "As for my designation..."

"You may address me as Regent King."

...

Within the confines of a humble, dilapidated dwelling, Gami, illuminated by the faint glow of an oil lamp, was assiduously packing a multitude of pilfered items into a sack. Outside, thunder roared and rain lashed down, his expression a mixture of apprehension and exhilarating anticipation.

Gami had finally succeeded; he had truly killed York.

"Hahaha! Priest, I have harbored the desire to do this for a very long time," Gami chuckled uncontrollably.

A profound hatred for York had taken root in Gami's heart, escalating into pure animosity. He detested the Priest's sanctimonious facade, his austere way of life, and his earnest, albeit futile, attempts to dissuade Gami through incessant admonitions, all in the name of benevolence...

"You insufferable hypocrite!"

He hurled the insult aloud, yet deep down, Gami acknowledged that York was not a hypocrite; every word and action stemmed from a heart overflowing with genuine piety.

Gami simply could not tolerate York's radiant presence, a light that starkly exposed his own inherent darkness.

Fortunately, once he was far from Gray Stone Town, Gami would no longer need to remain in hiding.

It was only a matter of time before the Priest's demise was discovered. Given York's standing in Gray Stone Town, the sheriff would undoubtedly launch an intensive investigation. At that juncture, Gami's circumstances would become perilously precarious, necessitating his immediate flight under the cover of night.

The prospect of a brighter future brought an involuntary smile to Gami's lips. However, a fleeting thought of York still managed to stir a residual pang of conscience within him.

That fateful night, for a single, poignant moment, Gami had genuinely contemplated sincere repentance. Yet, he was utterly weary of his impoverished existence. To alter his destiny, he would resort to any means necessary.

With his coin purse bulging, Gami strained under the weight of his heavy backpack. Just then, a sudden gust of wind forced the door open, allowing cold, damp air to flood the room, accompanied by the rumble of thunder that momentarily split the world into stark contrasts of black and white.

Amidst the cacophony, Gami detected the sound of another breath.

Gami decisively dropped his cumbersome burden, recognizing it as a liability that would impede his escape. He swiftly drew his Short Knife, brandishing it menacingly, while his other hand instinctively went to his lower back, its fingers closing around the grip of the concealed firearm.

"Who goes there?!"

Gami's gaze fixed upon the open doorway, where the silhouette of a slender, spectral figure stood. The figure's face was obscured, but in the intermittent flashes of lightning, the Cross pendant adorning its chest pulsed with an ethereal luminescence.

"York... the Priest?"

A chilling dread washed over Gami. He had, with his own hands, bludgeoned York's head with a shovel and buried him alive. How, then, could he possibly be standing here?

How could he still be alive?

The figure released its grip, and with a resounding clatter, chains resembling sharp thorns descended. Disregarding Gami's bewildered state, the figure seized the chains, coiling them repeatedly around its wrists and fists. Thorns tore through flesh, and soon, Gami's fists were slick with blood.

Similarly, the figure's own fists became encased in a macabre armor of thorns.

The figure advanced. The palpable tension emanating from it sent a jolt of alarm through Gami's mind. Acting decisively, he drew his gun and fired. The bullet struck the figure's chest, erupting in a spray of crimson.

"What if you survived again," Gami declared in a frenzy, "I simply have to kill you one more time!"

The bullets continued to hammer into the figure's form, like relentless blows, forcing it to stagger back a step. Its body showed slight indentation, but after a brief pause, it resumed its relentless advance, each step further eroding Gami's dwindling sense of security.

Gami kept firing, emptying the chamber. The figure's silhouette seemed to reel from the successive impacts, faltering several times.

Yet, it pressed onward.

As the distance between them closed, the oil lamp's flickering light gradually illuminated the figure's face. Gami beheld York's visage once more. However, it was a stark departure from the kind countenance he remembered; York's face was now etched with an unnerving coldness, a chilling aura, and a spectral, vacant smile.

Gami swung his Short Knife wildly, but York moved with supernatural speed. The chain whipped through the air, striking Gami's wrist with brutal force. The thorns shredded his skin, instantly reducing his hand to a gory mess. Overwhelmed by the searing agony, the Short Knife was ripped from his grasp, embedding itself in a nearby wooden plank.

"Gami."

York's voice, uttering his name, sent a fresh wave of terror through Gami. Clutching his ravaged hand, tears streamed down his face from the sheer intensity of the pain.

The mangled wound throbbed with a persistent, burning sting, as if submerged in potent venom. The agonizing torment instantly coursed through Gami's entire arm, pushing him to the brink of unconsciousness.

A searing pain erupted from his abdomen, far worse than before.

York clenched his fist, delivering a brutal blow to Gami’s stomach. Thorns tore through Gami’s robes, lacerating his skin and flesh, before violently retracting, exposing a bleeding intestine that spilled outwards.

"You're a Priest, York!"

Gami staggered back, clutching his midsection. His foot caught on his bundle, sending him tumbling. He crashed against the wall, the bundle bursting open. A cascade of gold coins and jewels scattered, pooling at Gami’s feet, now stained with his crimson blood.