Free Web NovelThe smoke had not yet fully dispersed, and a faint, acrid smell of shattered Worm-Eaten Household corpses still lingered in the scorched earth.
The Red Tide Knights were meticulously clearing the battlefield, recovering magic explosion debris, and burying the bones of their comrades. freewebnoveℓ.com
A figure in a silver-white cloak quietly bypassed the crowd, walking alone towards the already collapsed Broodmother's remains.
Eduardo Calvin, the third son of Duke Calvin and an investigator for the Golden Feather Church, had remained silent since the battle began.
Even as the Broodmother was destroyed, he merely frowned and stared, as if he had seen something unspeakably familiar.
“Why do I feel... I’ve seen it before?”
The ruined nest ✧ NоvеIight ✧ (Original source) before him resembled a charred, stony fetus, with still-wet viscous fluid faintly visible in its cracks.
And biological tissues that should not exist in this world.
They were still twitching, as if unwilling to abandon some “birthing” mission even in death.
“It’s... too similar,” he murmured, finally stepping forward.
Eduardo removed his glove, revealing his slightly glowing right palm, where a golden pattern, neither quite feather nor not, shimmered.
That was a divine grace personally bestowed by the Pope, granting him the ability to read the lingering memories of the dead.
This was also why the Church had sent him to investigate the Archmage’s whereabouts.
“If you once possessed consciousness... then tell me.”
His palm lightly touched the fleshy wall that had once been the oviposition chamber, and for a moment, the earth seemed to tremble.
Boom!
His mind was ignited as if by a raging fire, and a surging wave of information crashed over him.
Cries, laughter, wails, incantations, blood, fire, flesh, gestation, gnawing.
Thousands of memories flooded his consciousness like a torrent, a pain that instantly made him lose himself.
“Ugh—!”
Eduardo abruptly collapsed to his knees, blood trickling from his nose, his vision blurred.
He severed the connection almost immediately, gasping for breath, his heart pounding like a drum.
These were not memories a human should touch.
But in that terrifying abyss, he still managed to capture a vague yet clear piece of information.
Not naturally generated.
This Broodmother was not naturally born, but rather “sown.”
A woman in a white robe stood in a mountain valley amidst swirling snow.
One by one, Broodmother eggs were taken from her worn leather pouch, pressed into the frozen earth, buried, sealed, incantated, and blood-sacrificed.
“A bagful...” Eduardo murmured, the afterimage lingering in his mind—that heavy bag of eggs, the woman’s gentle yet mad smile...
She wasn't creating weapons; she was planting war.
“This isn’t the only one—” Eduardo’s throat bobbed, cold sweat dripping from his temples. He knew what this meant.
Eduardo stood amidst the wreckage, his fingers trembling slightly.
That momentary “divine revelation” brought not only pain and fear, but also a revelation so heavy it almost suffocated him.
If there were others... if any of those eggs remained...
He could imagine how many villages would be instantly annihilated, how many civilians would become fields of flesh for the swarm to incubate, when these Broodmothers awakened in other corners of the world.
And they knew nothing, completely unaware that “disaster was about to strike.”
“I... I should report this to the Church.”
The thought arose, almost instinctively.
His duty, his identity, his faith, had always revolved around that towering Golden Feather Sanctuary.
If there were signs of evil, they should naturally be submitted to the Church for judgment.
But the next second, he stopped.
What flashed in his mind were the cold eyes of those high-ranking Church officials.
Not anger, not worry, but calculation and deliberation.
“How deeply is it involved with the Empire?”
“If it spreads, will it benefit the Church’s standing?”
“Can it be used as leverage to balance the Empire?”
He knew very well what these bishops of the Church, those people dressed in holy garments, were like now.
Especially after the Pope fell into slumber, they became even more unrestrained.
“They won’t help the Empire,” he said in a low voice, almost gnashing his teeth.
A gust of wind blew, mixing the scent of blood with the smell of char.
Eduardo looked at the backs of the knights in the distance, his heart complex.
If he said nothing, perhaps he could preserve himself, continuing to navigate the world with that composed facade.
If he spoke, he would have to surrender a part of his secret, and even bear unnecessary attention and suspicion.
“But can I... can I sleep soundly? How would the Lord see it?”
His fingertips tightened on his cloak, and he lowered his head, gazing at his palm, where the golden feather pattern quietly faded, leaving only a cool sensation. The struggle within him coiled like iron chains in his chest.
Responsibility, conscience, identity, faith, clashed violently in the depths of his soul.
Finally, he looked up.
Eduardo took a deep breath, his face regaining its calm, that gentle and composed demeanor returning to him.
“I should indeed speak,” he said softly, “but not entirely.”
The source of his ability? No need to mention divine grace.
He would simply say it was a rare empathic ability within his knightly bloodline, allowing him to perceive fragmented memories upon touching living remnants.
Bloodline talents were diverse in this world; there were even nobles who woke up with a tail and claimed it was their bloodline talent.
What was one more “memory resonance” for him?
As long as he could alert them to be vigilant early, it would be enough.
With this thought, he finally stepped forward, walking towards Louis.
Louis had already noticed his every move, but he didn't understand what he was contemplating.
Eduardo approached, stopping before him, hesitating slightly as he chose his words, then spoke in a low voice:
“My bloodline ability... is to read lingering memories from the deceased.
And on the Broodmother’s corpse, I saw an image of a female mage.”
He paused, his gaze solemn, “She is the originator and controller of this entire Worm-Eaten Household, or at least this Broodmother.”
Duke Edmund stood by, frowning, a flicker of alarm in his eyes: “You mean there’s more than one Broodmother?”
Eduardo nodded, his tone heavy: “At least a dozen seeds.”
Edmund did not immediately question him; a terrifying image quickly formed in his mind:
If a dozen Broodmothers were scattered throughout the Northern Territory, even surrounding Snow Eagle City, what kind of disaster would that be?
Countless Worm-Eaten Households pouring out from all directions, devouring all living things, a terrifying scene that even the Snowsworn could not resist, instantly furrowed his brow. freēwēbηovel.c૦m
“This is far more terrifying than the Snowsworn,” he said in a low voice, his expression grave.
Louis listened to their conversation, a slight relief washing over him. He had just been wondering how to convey the matter of the “experiment” from the intelligence system to the Duke.
He hadn't expected Eduardo to speak first.
Louis felt a surge of surprise and admiration.
He hadn't expected this brother, whose true identity was an enemy spy, to risk exposing himself at such a crucial moment and frankly reveal this matter.
At that moment, he saw the sincerity and responsibility hidden beneath Eduardo’s surface.
