Hogwarts Raven

Chapter 374, Section 373: The Living Corpse and the Priest
The spiral staircase seems to have no end.

The raven that Ian had transformed into silently followed, always remaining in the shadows thirty paces away. His raven eyes could not only see, but also secretly cast a kind of magic called "Path Mark"—every seven steps he took, he left an almost invisible silver rune in the air, as if marking some kind of pattern.

This is a classic example of "better safe than sorry".

Ian had to be prepared for the unexpected at any time. He noticed that the distribution of moss on the wall was not random—there was a particularly dense area every seven steps.

These mosses do not grow naturally; every seven steps there is a particularly dense clump, slightly oval in shape, with a faint fluorescent edge.

The combination resembles a counting method, or it signifies something being born, and it relates to the number seven, which is a magical artifact in the Harry Potter world.

At the end of the spiral staircase, a chilling, damp air, carrying a strange, cloying stench of decay, assaulted the senses. The ghost bride dragged the priest's ankle, leaving a winding trail of blood on the moss-covered stone steps. The priest's white robes were already tattered, and his withered fingers dug desperately into the cracks of the stone steps, oblivious to the splitting nails.

“I don’t need to beg you. I can do a lot for you. I am very useful.” The priest’s voice was hoarse and barely audible, and his single eye was bloodshot.

The ghost bride remained unresponsive, her red wedding gown gleaming crimson in the shadows. Her steps were mechanical and precise, each one landing precisely on the densest patch of moss. Ian, in his raven form, glided silently, his sharp eyes taking in every detail—the pattern formed by the moss was clearly an inverted Eye of Horus.

“Forty-nine,” Ian counted silently in his mind. When he completed the seventh seven-step sequence, the view suddenly opened up before him, and the staircase finally came to an end.

A colossal gate inlaid with human bones stands at the end. The gate frame is pieced together from seven different types of bones—ribs forming a spiral pattern, finger bones arranged in hieroglyphics.

The most chilling thing is the doorknob: in the center of the two crossed femurs, a vivid human eyeball is moving, and an eerie light of intelligence shines through the contraction of the pupil.

This kind of setup doesn't look like something a proper place should have.

“I swear! I swear allegiance! I can write new scriptures for you! I can summon all the priests to submit! Please… do not devour me! I am still useful! I am still useful—!”

The priest's voice echoed down the narrow staircase, but no one answered. Only the ghost bride's light, breezy footsteps and the rustling of her wedding dress trailing on the ground could be heard.

Like the whisper of death.

Under the watchful eye of the hidden Ian.

The ghost bride stopped in her tracks.

She released the priest, extended her pale fingers, and her nails suddenly grew three inches long, slicing open her wrist like a blade. Dark blue blood dripped onto her eyeballs.

His pupils suddenly contracted, followed by a muffled thud from inside the door as a mechanism turned.

"Witness. Return." The ghost bride's voice became layered and complex, but Ian could tell that the third voice in the fluctuating tone was the high-pitched voice of the embryo.

The door slowly opened inward, emitting a grating metallic scraping sound, like a tomb that had not been opened for many years, from which thick darkness surged forth as if alive.

The ghost bride grabbed the limp priest and stepped inside.

The raven that Ian had transformed into spread its wings, gliding along the shadows of the wall until it finally landed on an ancient bronze chandelier in the corner. The chandelier had long been extinguished and was covered in verdigris, but it had become the perfect "branch" for him to hide on. He concealed his aura, his consciousness sinking into the gap between reality and illusion, ensuring that he would not be detected by any being.

Inside the door lay an enormous underground hall, the sight of which would send shivers down the spines of even the most seasoned wizards—in the center of a hemispherical cellar floated a golden, fleshy egg, three stories high, its surface covered in veins that pulsated rhythmically. Seven thick golden chains extended from the egg, connecting to seven crystal skull containers, each containing a brain submerged in a golden liquid.

The dome was immeasurably high, from which hung hundreds of mummified corpses, like upside-down bats, their skin as dry as paper, their limbs twisted, yet still uttering low chants. Their voices merged into an eerie chorus, like an ancient prayer, yet belonging to no known language.

On the ground, hundreds of mummies knelt in concentric circles, their empty eye sockets all facing the fleshy testicles, their jaws opening and closing mechanically, emitting a synchronized chanting. Most chillingly, the hollows on the mummies' foreheads—where tattoos should have symbolized a third eye—were now inlaid with tiny golden buds of flesh, writhing in rhythm with the chanting. All the mummies were praying, their eyes fixed on the same spot.

In the center of the hall, a golden embryo floats.

It was about three meters tall, oval-shaped, and its surface was covered with flowing golden patterns that pulsated like blood vessels. It had no facial features, yet it gave the impression of "gazing"—as if the entire space was within its perception. Surrounding it were twelve mummies, dressed in tattered high priest robes.

He appears to be of high status.

All of them had their hands raised high, palms facing upwards, releasing streams of eerie green magical light that guided the entire ceremony.

Ian's pupils contracted slightly—these mummies were not completely dead, but had been transformed by some kind of evil magic into "living priests" of embryos.

With the priests of the sun god in place, the embryonic evil god created its own priests in its own way. They needed no faith, no will, only to become conduits of energy.

Very efficient.

And they seem to be absolutely loyal.

What's even more chilling is that different ghost brides keep pouring into the hall from all directions. They come in all shapes and sizes—some are dressed in school uniforms, some are draped in dancer's gowns, and some are even just the corpses of young girls wrapped in white cloth—but all of them have red eyes and drag black coffins in their hands.

The coffins were opened one by one.

Inside were not corpses, but living people.

There were ordinary citizens, wandering wizards, scholars, craftsmen... They all wore labels, written in blood-red ink, indicating the extraordinary abilities each person possessed.

They were forcibly dragged out of the coffin and thrown to the ground. Some screamed, some struggled, and some roared and questioned:

Who are you?! Where is this?!

"Let me go! I am a registered wizard of the Twilight Hermits! You will be judged!"

"This...this is underground of the temple?! Are you all insane?!"

No one responded. The mummified priests simply continued their chanting, while the ghost brides indifferently pushed them to the center.

In an instant, the twelve mummified priests simultaneously raised their hands, and beams of eerie green light shot from their palms, weaving into a massive energy net that enveloped all the living sacrifices.

Their bodies began to glow, and golden patterns emerged beneath their skin, mirroring the patterns on the surface of the embryos. Their life force, magical affinity, and soul essence were being forcibly extracted and transformed into golden streams of light, continuously flowing into the embryos.

Screams came and went.

Some tried to resist, unleashing magic, but the magic was swallowed up by the energy net the moment it coalesced. Others tried to escape, only to find their legs like lead, unable to move an inch.

Just a few seconds.

All the sacrificial bodies began to shrivele, their skin wrinkled, their eyes sunken, and they eventually turned into mummies, which were dragged away by the ghost brides and hung on the dome to become the new "chanters." "After their life essence is absorbed, the remaining corpses are transformed into zombie believers? Hiss~" Ian couldn't help but be shocked by the twisted thoughts and cruel will of the golden embryo.

"Aaaaaah—!"

A piercing scream interrupted Ian's thoughts. Ian turned his head and saw another ghost bride dragging a black coffin into the cellar. When she opened the coffin lid, five living people, bound by iron chains, were curled up inside. Each of them had a papyrus label on their forehead: "Astrologer," "Herbalist," and "Master Architect."
The mummies suddenly turned en masse towards the newly arrived sacrifices. With eerie coordination, they rose, their bony claws seizing the struggling living people and dragging them to seven specific locations around the fleshy eggs. One young woman struggled frantically, shouting at the scepter priest, "Save us! Aren't you the high priest?!"

The priest with the scepter collapsed to the ground, his lips trembling but unable to utter a word. The mummies pressed the offerings onto the grooved stone slabs, their bony claws slicing across their foreheads. The instant blood gushed forth, the flesh eggs suddenly contracted violently, and the seven golden chains taut. Ian clearly saw strands of blue energy being drawn from the foreheads of the offerings, flowing along the grooves carved into the ground towards the flesh eggs.

"No, no!" The astrologer's eyes quickly dimmed. "I can see it. That's..."

Her last words came to an abrupt end.

All the sacrifices stiffened simultaneously, their skin visibly shriveling until they became mummies indistinguishable from their surroundings. Their foreheads began to bulge, tiny golden buds of flesh bursting from their skin. Having witnessed two sacrifices in succession, the priest with the scepter finally broke down. He scrambled to the fleshy eggs, kowtowing frantically.

"No...no...I am not a sacrifice! I am a priest! I am the high priest of the temple! I can serve you! Great God! Please! I can be your high priest! I can manage the believers for you! I can write divine pronouncements for you! I know all the secrets of the temple! I can help you obtain more sacrifices!"

He knelt on the ground, his forehead hitting the ground, blood streaming down his face.

"I am willing to offer my soul! My knowledge! My everything! Just let me live! Let me be your most loyal servant!"

This person truly didn't want to die, much less become a sacrifice. Due to the sealing of their magic, they had missed the optimal time for suicide, and now even the desire to die directly was a luxury for this scepter priest.

in fact.

Just now, when he was in the upper temple outside, he still had the opportunity to choose death and accept the protection of the laws of the underworld to enter the underworld. However, it was obvious that the scepter priest himself gave up the protection and guidance and wanted to stay in the human world to plot resurrection. This has resulted in him having no chance at all now.

It can only be said that the Priest of the Scepter brought this upon himself.

of course.

There are also many innocent people who Ian wants to save, but he knows nothing about the ghost bride and the evil god that was conceived. Acting rashly could even cost him his life.

Although transforming into a raven grants immunity to magic and divine spells, this is merely something Ian had previously concluded. He is unsure whether evil magic can affect the raven's body, which is also an evil creature.

In Ian's observation room.

He could see countless souls being absorbed into the golden embryo, becoming part of the evil god within it, and not perishing. Therefore, as long as the problem could be solved, those souls could still be saved.

Ian is not a Gryffindor.

Lacking a reckless and righteous personality, he can only do the right thing as much as possible while ensuring his own safety, and formulate a plan only after gathering enough information.

The priest with the scepter was still frantically begging for mercy.

The golden embryo remained suspended, motionless.

It has no response, no emotion, and not even the act of "listening"—it simply exists, like the center of the universe, with everything nourishing it.

A wizard, on the verge of death, lay on the ground, using his last strength to lift his head and stare at the scepter priest, his voice hoarse: "Fool... don't you understand yet?"

The priest with the scepter was taken aback.

“You…you priests…the god you are creating…” Blood trickled from the corner of the wizard’s mouth, but he gave a sarcastic smile, “It doesn’t need you…it doesn’t need any ‘servants’…what it wants is…all things to be a part of it…” He gasped for breath, the last sentence almost inaudible.

“It…is my…priest…my own believer…my own god…” Before he could finish speaking, his body completely withered, turning into a dried corpse, and was dragged away by the ghost bride.

The priest with the scepter was stunned.

He finally understood.

They thought they were creating a god, but in reality they were nurturing an all-consuming being. This embryo needs no faith, for it is the very end of faith; it needs no priests, for it can transform all life into its extension; it needs no believers, for it wants the entire world to become its "body."

It is not a "god," but an anti-god—an ultimate being that refuses to be defined, worshipped, or separated. It seeks not domination, but integration.

"No!"

The priest of the staff found this situation unacceptable.

He realized a most serious problem, one he had consistently overlooked. The artificial sun god project was indeed progressing smoothly, but the sun god embryo was misinterpreting the meaning of the sun shining on all things! This was a reverse understanding—making all things become part of the "sun"! He and the other priests had ultimately botched the experiment!

It was as if to verify the information that the scepter priest and Ian had received at the same time.

A newly transformed mummy slowly turned its head, its empty eye sockets "staring" at the priest, its jaw opening and closing to emit a hoarse voice: "No need to serve, all things are me."

This was clearly the embryo expressing its will through the living corpse. This statement was like a final death knell. The priest of the scepter stared blankly around, suddenly noticing that the fleshy buds on the foreheads of all the mummies were pointing in the same direction—with each sacrifice converted, the control network of the fleshy egg expanded further.

"So that's how it is." An old wizard, dragged in from the corner, gave a bitter laugh. "What you've created isn't a god, it's a plague! It wants to turn all life into its own part!"

The priest of the scepter was struck dumb. He suddenly remembered the warning in the ancient texts.

The false god devours, the true god blesses.

This was supposed to be the first commandment, strictly forbidden, but now the priest of the staff realized it was the truth. But it was too late; the seven demon brides had already surrounded them.

Their red wedding gowns fluttered without wind, revealing their desiccated bodies beneath.

No, you can't.

The priest with the scepter retreated in despair until his back pressed against the fleshy egg. Sensing the touch of a living creature, the egg suddenly split open, and countless golden threads, like tentacles, shot out, instantly piercing the priest's seven orifices. The priest's scream turned into a grotesque shriek. His eyeballs bulged, and his pupils reflected the horrifying truth in their final moments.

The embryo was essentially a species with the face of the sun god... but without any humanity.

(End of this chapter)