Above The Sky
Chapter 351 - 351 323 Dream of the Worm Nest 43 asking for monthly votes!

351: Chapter 323: Dream of the Worm Nest (4/3, asking for monthly votes!) 351: Chapter 323: Dream of the Worm Nest (4/3, asking for monthly votes!) No matter how gentle they appear on the surface, Spirit Energy Users—especially those with Postnatal Awakening of Spirit Energy—are undeniably harboring thoughts that are part mad and irrational to ordinary people.

Elder Prude knew this deeply, he was aware that Prophets are arrogant, Spirit Energy Users are mad.

They might not realize it themselves, but non-Spirit Energy Users could sense the abnormal sharpness that lingers around them.

It’s as if… they have broken through a layer of facade, revealing the sharpness of their true selves.

Perhaps that’s the very nature of Spirit Energy, rooted in the essence of one’s spirit… a manifestation of innate desire.

Indeed, this is a unique symbol, but it’s also the reason ordinary people subconsciously keep their distance from Spirit Energy Users.

For the most part, people in this world wear false masks, concealing their true selves.

Seeing someone’s true face is enough to make one feel fear and discomfort.

Take a simple example, it’s like witnessing a friend or relative suddenly go mad, loudly sharing their various interests and hobbies, their favorite types of literature and genres of games, still fond of the ‘Light’s Beautiful X Ladies’ and various ‘Masked X Knights’ and ‘Ottoman Special Photography’ even at their age, or even openly disclosing their sexual preferences…

Embarrassing, too embarrassing, you’d wish to keep your distance from such a person!

Especially since this person is not ashamed at all, and after speaking, can still interact with others with such a calm demeanor.

So…

There’s a bit of envy and jealousy.

—Why can he be like this?

So sincere, so unguarded, so fearless of others’ stares and mockery?

People keep their distance from Spirit Energy Users, especially those who have exposed their obsessions.

But Ian’s dream requires the help of many people.

Ian knew this, so he had always been concealing his edge, donning a mask, befriending most people, making them feel close to him, so that all the White Folks would acknowledge him, trusting that he could bring them a better future.

But just a moment ago, Elder Prude sensed that the disguise Ian wore had shattered—the battle, the killing, and the determination had allowed his Spirit Energy to grow one step further, so much so that he had forgotten to restrain that overwhelming sense of oppression.

Facing a Prophet, anyone would feel that pressure as if all their thoughts were transparent.

Elder Prude had intended to find a chance to remind Ian, but unexpectedly, at this moment, the other had instinctively reined in his sharp will.

“Is it because of Elan?”

Thinking this, Elder Prude had wanted to enjoy a little wine, but he saw Ian watching him.

“Thank you, Elder.”

He saw such a motion of lips, heard such words.

He saw Ian’s slightly upturned mouth, sensed the honest gratitude and closeness.

Ian was rarely intimate with others.

He could be very gentle, superficially blend in with many people.

He could befriend anyone—but he always seldom truly got close to others.

With a wine glass in hand, the old man grew slightly distracted.

He had never felt this before… not from his mother who was wholeheartedly devoted to scholarship, nor from his father who had left before he was born and died in adventure, nor from any of the elders in his family.

The man, who had no children and had never thought of having any, suddenly felt an odd warmth spreading in his heart.

—Mother.

With this thought in his heart, he also smiled at Ian, nodding for him to eat quickly, to replenish his nutrition and strength, and then he took a sip of the sweet and fragrant honey wine.

The old man lowered his eyes, closed them, feeling the hot wine mix with his throat as it slid into his stomach.

A feeling of… warmth.

—Perhaps… I no longer seek to fulfill the prayers you had for me, to accomplish your wishes, to revive the family once again.

—I… It’s just me.

—It is I who want to establish such a family.

A warm… home.

After eating, Elan felt tired.

Since the morning, he had been frequently sensing Ian’s emotions, just like Ian had in the beginning, both physically and mentally exhausted.

Elder Prude had already prepared a room.

The little boy was drowsily tucked into bed, and Ian was also ordered to rest.

The youth had wanted to say he wasn’t tired and could talk to Elder Prude about his experiences in the ruins, but the Elder shook his head, indicating he didn’t want to listen at the moment.

So, Ian had no choice but to lie down in bed and rest his spirit as well.

On the bed, Ian, who thought he would stay awake, experienced a strange warmth and sense of security.

It was an emotion that he could never feel in the group of ruins, no matter what.

Thus, it took only a mere ten seconds for him to fall into a deep slumber.

The boy’s thoughts gradually calmed, like an eagle surveying the sky, vigilant, yet still able to sleep soundly in its nest.

He fell into a deep sleep.

Then, the Prophet had a dream.

A dream where he became the Worm Nest, the sovereign.

A dream of gazing at the stars.

…

Dreams of foreseeing the future, flowing through time.

In the year of 773 in the Era of Terra, on April 20th, a piece of devastating news spread throughout Harrison Port.

The Bishop of White Mist, who struggled back from the South Sea Labyrinth with a dying body, brought back sorrowful news—an accidental shift and the intervention of Patrick of the Ellen Family had prevented him from stopping the rampage of the giant Brain-Eater Matron nested within the Labyrinth, leading to the death of everyone who had entered the Labyrinth in the battle against the Swarm.

Whether it was Master Gossay, Yisen Gard, the special forces from Fiery Flame Land, or the monks of the Spiritual Tool Church, the appraiser Ian, and everyone from the Green Tide and other fleets who had attempted but failed to leave, all had lost any chance of escape due to the attack of the Nest or the obstruction of Magical Beasts.

Even he himself was severely injured, and if it weren’t for his strong vitality, he would likely have died in that final battle as well.

He was not lying; what he said was the truth, and could be verified by any Spirit Energy test.

Both Viscount Grant and the Ellen Family found the outcome hard to accept, but they also knew that, however unbelievable and unacceptable, it had already happened.

But there was one little boy who didn’t believe it.

The appraiser Ian’s younger brother, a White Folks boy named Elan, insisted that his brother was still alive.

Although in pain and confused, he was indeed still alive.

Initially, the Bishop of White Mist had asked in detail about the situation, but there were no results due to the boy’s inability to clearly express his thoughts.

Ultimately, the elder had witnessed with his own eyes the opponent’s mutual destruction with the Nest Will, sinking with the Crystal Dragon into the bottomless pit created by the collapse of the Worm Nest, and finally being completely burnt up by the high-temperature cooling fluids of the ruins.

Regardless, the disaster that could have spread to South Ridge and even the entire Terra Continent was indeed eradicated, and the related part about this calamity in the Book of Prophecies also completely disappeared.

Because Ian played an important role in the battle against the Matron, aiding the church in eliminating the disaster, the Bishop of White Mist decided to follow the doctrine and help his family in return, acting as Elan’s teacher and leading him on The Path of Sublimation.

No one would refuse this offer.

The White Folks had lost their genius, Harrison Port had lost their future Alchemy Master, the Elder had lost his heir, and the decision of the Huai Guang Church was a boon to everyone, a much-needed help in a critical time.

Thus, the young boy began to receive training from the Huai Guang Church, although he still stubbornly believed that his brother had not died, but was divided into many thoughts while in a dormant state.

But all this was regarded as a child’s babble.

Yet, no one knew that the captain of the special forces from the Fiery Flame Land, who died at the hands of the Giant Golden Centipede, slowly opened his eyes amidst the deep rubble.

The water-colored Spirit Energy Halo was no longer clear but had become dark and profound, as if it came from the depth of a remote dark spring.

The disaster that affected South Ridge and the whole Terra Continent had indeed come to an end.

But that was just a prelude.

The wriggling body, the Swarm that developed again around the corpse as a nucleus, and the green luminescence flickering over all the Swarm were all spreading, building, and being reborn in the dark depths beneath the ground.

It was like a number of green lines spreading over pitch-black iron.

Time passed like this.

In the blink of an eye, it was Terra Year 779.