Chapter 279: Chapter 210: Doomsday Nest_2

“It’s the God! The Ancient God has heard us!!”

“Grant me revenge! I want to burn every stone of the Empire!!”

“The God is here! The Mother Goddess has responded!!”

The shouts were like sparks falling into dry wood, instantly igniting the frenzy of the entire altar.

Tens of thousands cheered, shouted, cried; warriors kneeling on the ground struck the stone slabs with their heads, praying for the “miracle” to descend.

But slowly, something seemed amiss.

“Boom… Boom… Boom boom boom…”

A peculiar rhythmic vibration echoed from deep underground, not a response from the God, but a rhythm of hunger.

The Insect Cocoon began to convulse violently, bursting with countless insect eggs in the gaps. Bloody red tentacles broke through the cocoon and slowly entwined around stone bones and arrays, rolling like tides.

Blood mist began to seep from the ground fissures; the air became humid, warm, as if plunged into some kind of living cavity.

At that moment, the clamor suddenly stagnated.

The crowd seemed to have had their voices drained.

Someone opened their mouth, wanting to continue cheering, but only a trembling breath escaped.

Someone unconsciously stepped back, quietly holding the arm of the companion beside them, an unidentified fear surfacing in their eyes.

“… Not right.” An elderly Snow Swearer’s lips moved slightly, muttering softly.

Then, an indescribable “wail” emanated from underground.

Not a single cry, but thousands, tens of thousands overlapping together.

That sound was like countless babies crying simultaneously in the darkness, or like souls being devoured issuing their final sobs before death:

“Ah… Ah ah ah… Ah ah ah ah ah ah ah ah ah…”

The center of the Blood Stone altar cracked open.

A towering gigantic Nest slowly rose from the Blood Stone Abyss, as if nurtured from the womb of Hell’s descent.

Its physique presented a sickly maternal beauty.

The upper body resembled some twisted humanoid, arms spread open, welcoming the return of the devout like a sacred statue.

This embrace, however, bestowed death instead of warmth, as though to welcome the destruction of all things.

Its face, resembling that of a human woman, has features seemingly melding countless faces of agony. The corners of its mouth lift in a smile that suggests crying, eyes shut tight, milky liquid endlessly flowing from its eyes.

Not tears, but birthing fluid seeping from insect eggs and blood plasma.

Its eyes hold no eyeballs, just a swarm of insects creeping and wriggling, each blink resembling hundreds of lives mourning and sobbing.

Below the waist, it gradually disintegrates into a flowing fleshy ovary and birthing organs, an abyss of flesh continuously ejecting viscous egg sacs and twisted limbs, endlessly producing “offspring.”

The insect corpses, yet incomplete in form, roll and struggle in the blood and mucus, emitting gooey shrieks like a baby’s cry.

The entire surface of the Nest is covered with human faces, most of whom were former sacrificers.

Supporting it all are dozens of thick-jointed tentacles growing and winding out from the underground, deeply embedded into the earth like spider legs, chewing and rooting between flesh and stone.

Upon the altar platform, the Desperate Witch silently gazed upon the monstrous colossus rising from the ground, as if beholding a completed piece of art.

“Truly perfect.”

The man’s voice was gentle to the point of distortion, yet devoid of any human compassion, only icy intoxication.

“More elegant and efficient than the previous two generations, possessing complete independent personality and decision-making ability… No longer needing my constant nurture, no longer a tool but an ally, even a… future ’God.’”

This was his years of painstaking effort, the unique completion of the Nest — the Doomsday Nest.

The first and second generations of Nests? Before this complete form, they were like primitives.

It was not only stronger but had a “Personality Core,” capable of self-learning, mimicry induction, and spreading mental pollution among other heaven-defying abilities.

Below, the Snow Swearers, who were shouting “miracle descends” and “blood sacrifice,” now stood frozen in place.

Though they were battle-hardened, such eerie existence was evidently beyond their comprehension.

The crowd began to retreat, no longer adulation but instinctive avoidance; in chaos, some fell, some shrieked.

“This… This is not right… It’s not the Ancient God… Not the form we worshipped…”

A young warrior knelt on the ground, grasped his spear, yet trembled all over like a stripped child.

Another elder’s lips quivered, struggling to recite ancient prayers, but couldn’t utter a single word, only broken groans remained.

However, the first to react was their leader — Hiro.

He wasn’t crushed by fear like the others; instead, his entire body stiffened, resembling a beast finally aware of the cage’s existence.

“What is this…” His eyes widened, pupils trembling violently as he muttered, glancing back at the bizarre Nest, then looking up to the stage at the Witch cloaked in black.

Raging fire swept from his chest like a Snowfield storm, his shout thunderous: “You deceived me! You’ve deceived us all! This is not a God! Not the Ancient Abyss God—this is a monster! It’s a disaster!

Why… Why have I been bewitched by you for so long!”

He, who once was the staunchest flame of faith, the symbol of leading his people to worship “God,” had personally ignited the first sacrificial torch.

Now, his voice tore through the heavens, proclaiming his own ignorance.

He finally awoke from the beautiful dream conjured by the Witch’s Illusion Technique.

But it was all too late.

The Desperate Witch merely smiled slightly, as if hearing something incredibly ridiculous.

The corners of their mouth curled up, like a kind mother watching the rebellious struggle of a child.

“It’s been too long since anyone has called me so loudly…”

He snapped his fingers lightly, uttering a sentence in a low voice: “Then the blessing shall begin.”

In the next moment, the entire world seemed to hold its breath.

“Snap…”

A distorted, moist, crisp sound rang out, like forbidden being slowly unfolding.

Accompanied by a nauseating sound akin to eardrums tearing.

The abdomen of the Nest slowly unfurled dozens of spiral-shaped flesh seams.

Each seam was like a mouth yearning to suckle, resembling a blooming wicked flower, with fleshy membranes squirming, curling, dripping thick spore sap.

Chambers akin to petals trembled gently within the black spore sap, an overwhelming stench assaulted the senses.

It was a smell mingling blood, decaying embryos, and fermenting spores, strong enough to induce mental disarray.

“It, it’s moving…” A devotee stammered, staring blankly at the enormous meat flower, mumbling as if sleepwalking.

However, before more voices of questioning could rise, a thin layer of translucent fog began floating out from the depths of those cracks.

The fog wasn’t ordinary, but instead a viscous “insect fog.”

It swirled and swam in the air like water, each wisp seemingly possessing consciousness, undisturbed by the wind, snaking around the stage, slowly unfolding across the sky.

“So strange… It’s speaking to me… I hear it calling me…” Someone mumbled, eyes unfocused.

The fog began descending, slowly covering the entire altar square, silently settling on each devotee’s head, shoulders, amidst their breath.

They failed to perceive that hidden within those seemingly harmless mists were countless dust-sized “Corpse Worms.”

Each Corpse Worm was smaller than a grain of rice, entirely translucent, with visible internal organs, reminiscent of a newborn insect embryo, floating, crawling, lurking enveloped by the fog.

They silently adhered to people’s skin, nail crevices, ear canals, and nasal cavities.

At first, no one noticed, until the first scream pierced the air.

“It’s… it’s crawling in my eyes!!” A Snow Swearer suddenly looked up and roared, hands madly clawing at his eyes, blood splattering as if trying to gouge the entire eyeball out.

Yet, the chilling fact was, he suddenly froze.

His body still convulsed, but his expression relaxed into peace, like a serene infant, eyes empty.

The next moment, on the ground, beside the steps, beneath the stone columns, people began trembling, convulsing, vomiting.

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