Steampunk Era: Mad Abield
Chapter 272: Section 197: City of Tears (1)_3

Chapter 272: Section 197: City of Tears (1)_3

Standing at the entrance of the cave, Malin was about to jump down when another message leaped into his mind.

"My brother told me that you can still be trusted now, since you once faced terror, and then were brought back to this world by the Lord of Justice. It seems that Carterburg did a good job keeping it a secret, or my brother is lying to me. If it’s the former, listen well; if it’s the latter, first I’ll kill him, and then find time to kill you... because you are no longer yourself."

"Spit it out, old man."

Malin retorted.

"Well, listen carefully. If what you heard truly is the song of a Child of the Holy Nest, then you can try to communicate with her. According to the scriptures, they are a civilization capable of communication. Although they didn’t sign the civilization convention, at least in the past they always understood human language, so... give it a try, and see if you can end this nightmare for us."

"Right, don’t forget that escaping is the key to survival. I hope you can keep your promise to outrun death because it won’t be able to catch you then."

"I understand,"

having responded, Malin leapt into the tomb, a faint light igniting in his raised hand.

Before Malin could make out the carvings on the walls of the tomb’s passageway, a fearful shriek came from within, then a tiny figure burst out. Malin’s wrist was instantly ablaze with two World Tree Saplings, which tied the figure up in a knot... wrong, the branches didn’t bind a person. Malin instinctively reached out and grabbed a small hand.

The next second, the sticky little hand slipped out of his, but by then, the World Tree Saplings had already blocked the exit. Without a way to escape, the tiny figure dove into a corner. Malin turned around, increased the brightness, and saw a small Insectoid and the blue sac on her chest, while the chitinous shell was fully enveloping her.

Malin watched her small hands slowly being covered by the shell, surprised by the recent touch so much that the strange yet familiar letters on the wall could not even capture his attention.

"Is this... the legendary... biological armor?"

He glanced at the letters on the wall again.

Ulm- the writing was no longer clear -113.

Malin didn’t pay any attention to the little Insectoid, instead, he turned and headed towards the main chamber of the tomb. As the light orb in his hand grew brighter, Malin saw the cracked metal plates, the pipes, and what was called a coffin at the center of the tomb.

The semi-transparent lid of the capsule, the shriveled corpse inside it, and the silk body suit wrapping around it. Body refrigeration? A fatal eternal sleep due to operational error? Or wait a minute, this suit doesn’t seem to fit the inhabitant. Malin, curious, checked the door of the capsule and found it was glued on afterward. Then he circled around to the back of the capsule and saw a bunch of severed cables resting on a stone support.

"So this is how it stayed afloat; it had support indeed."

Malin returned to the ’coffin’ and sighed — was this the second epoch after the great destruction?

"Repurposing a life pod as a coffin, that’s a creative idea, Ferryn Destin."

With that thought, Malin rubbed his temples, feeling he understood a bit more about the ’great decline’ mentioned in history books.

A restless whisper came from behind him, as if two children were conversing. Malin turned his head to look into the dark depths of the tomb corridor.

It was unclear whether it was Fio or her friend who had hung the divine, luminous branches of the World Tree, lighting up everything for Malin. The little Insectoid’s wide-open eyes, brightened by the light, were round like bells, pure black sockets without an impurity, as if observing him, yet resembling the lifeless silence of oblivion.

As time ticked on, Malin kept silent, and so did the little Insectoid. At the 32-second mark, the little creature sniffled.

Continuing the silence, just as Malin considered breaking this damn near-record-breaking silence, at the 64-second mark, the little Insectoid’s voice echoed in the post-modernist tomb.

"I am Wasp, are you a bad person?"

Malin’s smile twisted — this was the first time in years someone had described him with such an adjective upon first meeting.

"I’m not bad; on the contrary, I’m a good person. I came here to find out who planted the Insectoids inside people’s bodies," Malin said, stepping towards it, "Was it you?"

"It was me."

Another voice echoed in Malin’s mind.

Following the flow of Spiritual Energy, Malin saw the tiny Insectoid inside the blue cocoon.

"Are you an Insectoid of the Holy Nest?" Malin asked.

"You know of the Holy Nest? You don’t look old enough to be aware of it,"

In response to its question, Malin smiled, "I heard your song. At first, I couldn’t hear it from far away, but as I got closer, I began to hear it clearly. Before I jumped down, your song mentioned the Holy Nest."

"You heard my song."

The little Insectoid’s voice contained a mix of confusion and surprise.

It seemed to be clinging to the shell of the sac, but Malin noticed its limbs appeared damaged: "What happened to your body, is it broken? Do you need to repair your body and make those Insectoids possess innocent people... including this child?" Malin asked, standing up.

He was waiting for an answer, and if the answer didn’t satisfy him, this tiny Insectoid would have to atone with its life.

"No, that’s not it; Sister Mira is also very pitiful; it was my choice," the girl spoke up loudly, "When I found sister, she was struggling in the sewer, her body covered in black mist. I picked her up and brought her back; she didn’t do it on purpose!"

Malin took a deep breath, "So Miss Mira, can you provide me with a reasonable explanation? If it satisfies me and you can remove this possession, then I might consider giving you a chance to live."

His words were sincere.

If the city could be saved, Malin wouldn’t mind covertly letting her escape with her life.