Chapter 237: Chapter 190: Origin of the Nest

The smoke had yet to dissipate, and the scent of acid from shattered insect bodies lingered in the burnt soil.

The Red Tide Knights were cleaning the battlefield, recovering magic burst remnants, and burying the bones of their fallen comrades with meticulous precision.

A figure in a silver-white cloak quietly bypassed the crowd, walking alone towards the collapsed remains of the Nest.

Eduardo Calvin, the third son of Duke Calvin, a Church Investigator of the Golden Feather Flower, had remained silent since the start of the battle.

Even at the moment the Nest was destroyed, he merely frowned and gazed intently, as if witnessing a familiar sensation that couldn’t be expressed.

Why do I feel like… I’ve seen it before?

The broken shell of the Nest before him resembled a blackened stone fetus, with semi-dried slime visible in the cracks.

And biological tissues that shouldn’t exist in the world.

They still twitched, as if refusing to give up a certain “birth” mission even after death.

“…It looks too similar.” He murmured softly, finally stepping forward.

Eduardo removed his gloves, revealing a slightly glowing right palm, where a gold pattern, not quite a feather, appeared.

That was the Divine Grace bestowed upon him by the Pope himself, granting him the ability to read the residual memories of the dead.

This was also why the Church had sent him to investigate the Grand Mage’s whereabouts.

“If you ever had consciousness… then tell me.”

His palm lightly touched the fleshy walls that were once the oviposition chamber, and in an instant, the ground seemed to quake.

Boom!

His mind felt ignited by flames, as a wave of information surged through.

Crying, laughter, wailing, curses, blood, fire, flesh, nurturing, devouring.

Thousands of memories poured into his consciousness like a flood, the pain causing an instant loss of self.

“Ugh—!!”

Eduardo abruptly fell to his knees, blood trickling from his nose, his vision blurred.

He nearly severed the connection immediately, gasping for air, his heart pounding like a drum.

These memories were not for human touch.

Yet in that terrifying abyss, he managed to capture a vague yet clear piece of information.

Not naturally generated.

This Nest was not naturally birthed, but “sown”.

A woman in a white robe stood within a snowstorm-laden valley.

She retrieved Nest eggs from a tattered leather bag, pressing them into the permafrost, burying, sealing, chanting spells, performing blood sacrifices…

“A bag full…” Eduardo murmured, the remnant image echoed in his mind, that bag of weighty eggs, that woman’s gentle yet insane smile…

She wasn’t creating weapons; she was planting war.

“This isn’t the only one…” Eduardo’s Adam’s apple moved, sweat trickling down his temple. He knew what this meant.

Eduardo stood among the wreckage, his fingers trembling slightly.

The “divine revelation” of that moment brought not only pain and fear but also a suffocatingly heavy revelation.

If there are others… if that bag of eggs remains in existence…

He could imagine how many villages would be wiped out in an instant, how many civilians would become fields of flesh for the Insect Swarm to incubate, once these Nests awakened in other corners.

And they knew nothing, not even that “disaster is imminent”.

“It must… be reported to the Church.”

The thought arose almost instinctively.

His duty, his identity, his faith had always orbited around that towering Golden Feather Sacred Hall.

If there were signs of evil, they should be handed to the Church for judgment.

But the next second, he paused.

In his mind emerged the indifferent eyes of those high in the Church Court.

Not anger, not concern, but calculation and weighing.

“How deeply is it linked to the Empire?”

“If spread, would it benefit the Church’s position?”

“Could it be used as leverage against the Empire?”

He knew clearly what the bishops of today’s Church were like, those dressed in holy attire.

Especially after the Pope fell into slumber, they were even more unchecked.

“They won’t aid the Empire.” He muttered bitterly, almost through clenched teeth.

A gust of wind blew, mixing the scent of blood and burnt odor.

Eduardo looked at the backs of the knights not far away, feeling conflicted inside.

If he didn’t speak, perhaps he could preserve himself, continuing to navigate the world with this facade of composure.

If he did speak, he would have to give up part of the secret, even risking unnecessary attention and suspicion.

“But can I sleep peacefully? What will the Lord think?”

His fingertips clenched the cloak, and he gazed down at his palm, where the golden feather pattern quietly faded away, leaving only a cool touch.

The inner struggle felt like iron chains coiling within his chest cavity.

Responsibility, conscience, identity, faith clashed violently deep in his soul.

In the end, he lifted his head.

Eduardo took a deep breath, his expression returning to calm, that gentle and elegant composure once again present on his face.

“I should indeed speak.” He spoke softly, “But not everything.”

The source of the ability? No need to mention Divine Grace.

Just say it’s a rare empathic superpower within the knight’s bloodline, capable of perceiving fragmentary memories upon contact with the living residues.

Bloodline talents vary immensely in the world; even a noblewoman waking up with a new tail can claim it as a bloodline talent.

What harm is there in him having an “empathic memory”?

As long as it alerts them to be vigilant in advance, that’s enough.

With this thought, he finally stepped forward, approaching Louis.

Louis had already noticed his every move, just puzzled by what he was contemplating.

Eduardo walked up, stopped before him, hesitantly choosing his words, and softly spoke:

“My bloodline ability—it’s capable of reading fragmentary memories left by the dead.

And on the rotting corpse of the Nest, I saw the image of a female mage.”

He paused, his eyes grave, “She… is the originator and controller of the entire Insect Swarm, at least of this Nest.”

Duke Edmund stood nearby, frowning, a glint of vigilance in his eyes: “Are you saying there is more than one Nest?”

Eduardo nodded, his tone heavy: “At least a dozen seeds.”

Edmund didn’t immediately question; a horrifying scene quickly formed in his mind:

If a dozen Nests were scattered across the Northern Territory, even surrounding Snow Eagle City, what kind of disaster would that be?

Swarms of insect corpses pouring in from all directions, devouring all life, an unimaginable terror even Snow Swearers couldn’t withstand instantly furrowed his brows.

“This… is far more dreadful than Snow Swearers.” He spoke softly, his demeanor grim.

Louis took in their conversation, feeling a slight relief, just moments ago contemplating how to convey the matter of “test subjects” in the intelligence system to the Duke.

Unexpectedly, Eduardo spoke up first.

Louis felt a mixture of surprise and admiration in his heart.

He didn’t expect his brother, whose identity was that of an enemy country spy, to candidly reveal this matter at such a critical moment, risking exposing his own identity.

At that moment, he saw the sincerity and responsibility hidden beneath Eduardo’s exterior.

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