Chapter 186: Reason

"Could you describe once more the sensations you experienced after falling into a coma following the suicide attack by the Seuvintan night-walkers? If I understand correctly, you were trapped within your own nightmare during that time?"

At the Alestler frontline barracks, in the field infirmary, the healer who had previously treated Kevin sat by his bedside, questioning the Nightblade member about his state of mind while under the influence of the corruption.

The healer removed her medical mask and headgear—precautions taken to ensure hygiene—revealing shoulder-length brown hair. She was a woman with heavy dark circles under her eyes, appearing rather lethargic.

"You don't mind if I smoke one of these, do you?" she asked, pulling a cigar-like object from her pocket and waving it before Kevin.

"No, it's fine, Ms. Jenny. Give me a moment to recall it. To be honest, it’s hardly a pleasant memory."

Lying on the cot with his shoulder still bandaged, Kevin waved a hand to signal his consent and drifted into his memories.

Dreams often blur upon waking, but for a clear-minded member of the Nightblades, organizing the fragments was no difficult task.

"Sorry... *huff*." Dr. Jenny snapped her fingers, igniting the cigar-like stick with a flame sparked from her fingernail, and took a deep drag.

A faint white mist rose, lacking the harsh, acrid bite of tobacco; instead, it carried the refreshing, invigorating scent of blended herbs.

"That's better." After a puff of her stimulant, the weariness that usually clung to Jenny’s face diminished significantly.

Exhaling softly, Jenny looked at the contemplative Kevin, her free hand tapping rhythmically against the table, creating a steady, soft sound.

"Hmm... this herb smoke with its mild hypnotic effect and this rhythmic cadence meant to soothe the mind—they simply don't affect those like the Nightblades, whose wills are far firmer than the average person's."

"If that's the case, what exactly is this corruption? Even if it is processed by the 'Prayer Communication Network,' it can still construct a nightmare prison strong enough to trap their wills. If the Seuvintans use this on a large scale in war, it will be a grave problem."

Jenny pondered silently. She had crafted an environment in Kevin’s room specifically designed to relax the mind—the dim, amber lighting, the scent of her special cigar, and the rhythmic tapping were all part of it.

Even she herself, with her lethargic, dark-circled, and sleepy appearance, was a deliberate element of this relaxing atmosphere.

Yet Kevin, a member of the Nightblades, remained unaffected. He was focused intently on what he had seen and remembered in his dream, offering no feedback to the environment around him.

The Nightblades' characteristic mental resistance, a cut above the ordinary, was on full display.

"Alright, I’ve recalled enough. I believe the nightmare this corruption shaped for me seized upon the deepest, most unbearable fear in my heart, then reconstructed that scene to lock me inside."

Kevin emerged from his half-closed state, his body trembling slightly under Jenny’s gaze. It was clear that reliving that encounter was agonizing.

"The deepest, most unbearable fear?" Jenny asked.

"Yes. It’s also the reason I joined the Nightblades. I wasn't originally a resident of the Royal City; I was just a child from an ordinary town not far away."

"That year, a priest from a plague cult passed through. He took a liking to my childhood playmate and wanted to turn him into a follower of the 'Plague Source'."

"To us ordinary folk in town, the plague wasn't something to be trifled with. It meant death—to people, to livestock, to crops. Who would ever want to worship a 'God of Plague'? The name was too much of a mouthful, so we just called him the Plague God."

Kevin’s voice remained devoid of waves; it was clear he had told this story many times before.

But if mere repetition could wash away the shadows of that experience, it would never have become a nightmare prison for his will.

"My playmate’s parents refused, of course, and he didn't want to go either. Then, that passing priest—who I suppose would be the equivalent of a high-ranking formal mage—took an interest in some 'plague carrier' trait my friend possessed. I didn't understand it..."

"It was night. My parents heard the sound of things falling and screaming outside. They went out to check, and I followed. We saw two bodies—their skin and flesh melting into pus, yet they were still moving. They were 'corpses.' Those were my playmate's parents."

"And my playmate... he was held in the hands of that cultist, who was forcing some green, viscous liquid down his throat. It moved like a slime, but it had a sickening stench. The priest called it 'Divine Grace'."

At this point, Kevin paused, whispering the words "Divine Grace" twice with a trace of disdain.

"Anyway, that was it. I watched my friend 'rot.' He must have been distracted by the noise of my parents opening the door. As he melted, he looked toward us. I can never forget that look of despair. It was a nightmare that haunted my sleep for years."

"Rot? I'm sorry, I shouldn't have asked."

Listening to Kevin’s flat, emotionless recollection, Jenny felt the scene vividly. The lack of decorative sentiment made the horror all the more piercing. She couldn't help but ask, only to realize the impropriety of her words.

"Yes, he rotted. My friend melted into that green sludge, and I could see his skull floating inside. I don't think he was dead yet, but honestly, becoming something like that... I think death would have been a mercy."

Kevin didn't mind her impolite question and continued. His tone remained flat, but Jenny could see his body trembling slightly. He was suppressing the terrible emotions born from the memory.

Though she had guessed what would happen next, Jenny couldn't help but clench her fists.

"..." Kevin paused for a long time, organizing his words and calming his heart.

"Ah, those two things—I couldn't tell if they were my parents or monsters anymore—chased me for a long time through those streets. No one could hear my screams. I begged them to wake up, calling their names, but the plague had already spread. Most of the townspeople had died in their sleep that night."

"Hilfast," Jenny whispered. She suddenly recalled the name; it was a town mentioned in her medical texts—a town "swallowed by the plague."

"I ran for a long time. Perhaps it was the priest's twisted sense of humor; I wasn't infected by the plague that killed everyone else. I was just hunted by the two monsters my parents had become. I ran through those endless, silent, dark streets until I was exhausted."

"Heh, those nights of running left me with so much—fear, cowardice. I think even the inner potential I awakened later is tied to that past. I wanted a double to die in my place so I could escape."

Kevin laughed at himself, mocking the "cowardly" nature of his awakened power.

"I was cornered at the end of an alley. I screamed my parents' names, crying, begging them not to kill me. There was no response. They were just monsters by then. I was just a child; how could I have known?"

"I watched in despair as they approached, raising their hands, ready to melt me with their corrosive fluids. I was paralyzed with fear. I did nothing but watch, waiting for them to kill me."

"But as you can see, I didn't die. At the last moment, a longsword swept through, cutting the monsters in half. I was lucky. Although they couldn't save the whole town, Hilfast was close enough to the Royal City that a Nightblade squad arrived. A captain saved me."

"He was my mentor, and the reason I became a Nightblade."

As Kevin spoke, the emotions he had stirred up gradually settled. He returned to his calm, detached demeanor.

"The nightmare that trapped me this time was that memory. It was the moment I was cornered, exhausted. Only, this time, there was no Nightblade to save me. Just the monsters closing in, and a helpless me."

"As for how I broke free, I don't remember clearly. I just stopped crying in despair. I wanted to live. I wanted to avenge my parents. I wanted to change."

"So, I picked up a sword that appeared out of nowhere, screamed with all my might, and swung it. Then I woke up."

Kevin spread his hands. "I don't know why I woke up. The nightmare felt so real; I couldn't tell the difference. I don't even have memories beyond that point."

"The only difference is that I became a bit braver. But thinking back, what use was a weak sword in the hands of a child against monsters that required a squire-knight to defeat?"

Kevin gave a wry smile.

"Perhaps it had no meaning. But I still admire those who, in the face of despair, don't collapse in tears but roar and swing their weapons instead," Jenny said.

"Is that so? That experience was my catalyst for joining the Nightblades. One reason was losing my parents and being raised by my mentor, and the other... well, I never want anyone else to suffer what I did."

Jenny put away the board she had been using to record the details of the corruption-induced nightmare.

"Thank you for sharing. This is very helpful for my research."

"And about the Prayer Communication Network..."

Jenny’s tone was hesitant.

"You mean telling Black Ben, the royal subordinate, about it? It doesn't matter. This couldn't be hidden, haha. It’s not like I don't understand what the 'Darkness of Heaven' means to the Royal Family. Isn't it just a way to keep us Nightblades in check?"

"To be turned into a fool before the mental corruption completely destroys our will—it means we can be easily dealt with using mental pollution. It’s just an insurance policy for the Royal Family. But it’s necessary for us, so we accept it."

"My mentor was able to keep his life under mental pollution because of the 'Darkness of Heaven' seal. He should still be at the border sanatorium. Though the chance of regaining his sanity is slim, there are exceptions, and they are all under your care, aren't they, Ms. Jenny?"

"Ah?" Jenny froze, surprised that Kevin knew she had patted his shoulder because of the "Prayer Communication Network," and even more surprised that he knew she had come to the frontline infirmary from the border sanatorium.

"Haha, Doctor, do you know that among us Nightblades, your title is 'The Goddess of Life Incarnate'? The few old Nightblades who recovered after going to the border sanatorium were all thanks to you. Honestly, everyone worships you, which is why I was so willing to share my past."

"Is that... so?" Jenny was stunned. The inquiry she had intended to lead had turned into something akin to casual chatter.

"Yes. Everything you’ve done for our fellow Nightblades who went to the border sanatorium because of mental pollution makes me feel heartfelt reverence."

"As for the Prayer Communication Network, it must be hard for the Royal Family to tolerate. It allows the Nightblades to break free from their reliance on the 'Darkness of Heaven' seal, losing a means to keep this force in check."

"I suspect they are bound to take action. Against the Church of the Lady of the Night, that generous deity? Against the creator of the prayer communication network? Or something else? This cannot be kept hidden."

Kevin spoke with casual ease, his clarity of vision far exceeding what Jenny had anticipated.

"Who is the creator of this prayer communication network?" Jenny was consumed by curiosity; she longed to know what manner of brilliant, transcendent mind could have authored such a miracle against spiritual corruption.

"I do not know. But it matters not. Whoever they may be, we of the Blades of Night shall never permit such a magnificent existence to suffer injustice, be it at the hands of the royalty or any other."

Kevin’s tone was resolute, unyielding.

"Do you ever feel disappointed in this kingdom?" Jenny asked suddenly.

"Because of the royal family, or those wretched nobles? No. After all these years, I have long since seen them for what they are. I—or rather, we of the Blades of Night—do not fight for them."

"We fight for, well, the bread of tomorrow, the gold of the day after—simple things like that. And, of course, for good people such as yourself, Doctor Jenny."

Kevin smiled as he spoke, his tone light yet filled with profound sincerity.

...

Outside the ruined mansion of the Viscount, Shugyin was busy briefing members of the Blades of Night and negotiating with representatives of the noble investigative commission.

Just then, a carriage approached from the distance. Shugyin glanced back, caught sight of the royal crest etched upon it, and turned away, indifferent.

The carriage moved swiftly, pulling to a halt once it reached the street. A middle-aged royal official stepped down, scanned the surroundings to identify his target, and spotted Wang Yu, who sat by the roadside with Edward, waiting for Shugyin to finish his business.

The official trotted over to Wang Yu’s side and addressed him with practiced courtesy, though Wang Yu had sensed his approach long before.

"Greetings, Lord Wang Yu."

"Hmm... hello," Wang Yu replied, maintaining a veneer of politeness.

"I wish to inquire whether the 'prayer communication network' recently employed by the Blades of Night is connected to you, Lord Wang Yu, in your capacity as Archbishop of the Lady of the Night." The tone remained courteous, yet the words carried an undisguised aggression.

Wang Yu’s expression remained placid; he did not flicker at the revelation of his partially classified status as Archbishop.

"It is of no consequence. It was likely researched and developed by the other believers themselves," Wang Yu said, dismissing the matter with effortless ease and not a hint of guilt.

"Is that so? By the way, the Royal Grand Astrologer, Lady Celine, wishes to meet with you. She may pay you a visit in the coming days."

The official scrutinized Wang Yu’s face, hoping to glean some secret from his features, but Wang Yu’s facial muscles remained as still as stone. Finding nothing, the official finally stated his true purpose.

"The Grand Astrologer herself? She is most welcome," Wang Yu replied, his tone one of natural, pleasant surprise.

"Very well. I shall return and inform Lady Celine that you accept her visit." The official said no more, boarded his carriage, and was whisked away by his purebred steeds.

"Tsk, I knew it. It was only a matter of time." Wang Yu clicked his tongue, watching the carriage depart, feeling somewhat speechless.