A group of people was traversing the Dark Snow Forest.

The branches and leaves were withered yellow, the ground muddy, and a nauseating stench of decay permeated the air.

The knight leading the group remained silent, focusing solely on guiding the way, while the mages following behind mostly wore Silver Masks, with only the leader wearing a Purple Gold-Edged Mask.

"May I ask... how much farther?" one of the female mages asked quietly, frowning.

"Almost there." The leading knight responded without turning his head, "Walk forward for another half an hour, and you'll see the outpost on the slope. At our current pace, we'll reach the ruin by afternoon."

The mages nodded and continued forward.

Towards the back of the group, a young mage complained softly to his companion, "Didn't Viscount Calvin say he had already 'dealt with' the Nest?

Since it's been dealt with, why are we even investigating? It's redundant... I was planning to go back and study the Fire Prison Array."

His companion immediately looked nervously ahead, quietly advising, "Keep your voice down... don't let the Grand Mage hear."

"Hmph, so what if he hears?" The young mage sneered.

He knew the only reason he dared make such a flippant remark was that the leader was Lady Flora, a famed kind old lady, gentle and forgiving, never losing her temper.

Also accompanying them was Grand Mage Dilin, the youngest High Tier member of the Mage Forest.

It's only natural for the young to harbor some disdain for young prominent figures.

If it were those stern grand mages who are the cold, silent type, quick to freeze people on the spot, he would have kept his mouth shut long ago.

Just as he was pondering, the knight guide spoke again, "It's just ahead; crossing this patch of forest will reveal it. Knights have long been stationed here."

Everyone quickened their pace.

As they emerged from the dense forest, reaching the top of the slope, the scene before their eyes made everyone hold their breath.

"Ugh..."

The young mage who was complaining earlier hastily covered his mouth, turned around, and vomited violently.

He thought he was used to seeing the rotting corpses and the remnants of sacrificial altars in the Magic Laboratory, but he had never witnessed such a sight.

The air was saturated with the foul stench of burning flesh and mucus; an elderly mage couldn't help but whisper, "Is this truly real?"

The Mage Forest team fell into collective silence.

The Nest was no more.

The once sprawling, rotting mass was likened to a giant beehive from a nightmare, leaving nothing now but a scattered field of charred fragments, piled up at the valley bottom like a collapsed mountain.

Its pale resinous shell had long shattered, the fragments embedded into the rock wall and ground.

Between the cracks, faint traces of human-like faces frozen in flame, some grimacing, some shouting, solidified like wax figures.

The tentacles that had once rampaged the battlefield like massive serpents now curled like charred twigs, disorderly stacked together, with dried-up pus oozing from the cut edges, emitting a strange metallic sheen.

Beyond were countless silkworms and insect carcasses.

The ground was littered with severed limbs and torn skeletons, many still wearing damaged knight armor, their identities indistinguishable.

Inside each insect carcass, the self-destruct sacs had ruptured, the released corrosive acid scourging the earth into dense, honeycomb-like pits, filled with a viscous green-black liquid that exuded a pungent stench.

The entire valley bottom now resembled a black hill made of charcoal, flesh, and nightmares.

It was both grotesque, yet imbued with some unspeakable dignity, akin to an ancient and mysterious altar, silently narrating the terror this land once endured.

A few fully armed knights were encircling the "remains" for clearance.

They donned heavy black protective armor, heavy breathing echoing from beneath their masks.

Some carried petroleum cans, continuously burning insect carcasses not yet fully carbonized.

Others wielded long-handled scythes, carefully slicing the remnants of parasitic nerve tissues.

Knights at the outermost perimeter raised torches, driving away wild beasts and scavenging birds attempting to approach.

Preventing these remains from being inadvertently touched, taken, or consumed.

Even though Flora believed she was mentally prepared, her chest still tightened slightly upon witnessing that "Death Hill."

She took a deep breath, tapped her finger twice on her Magic Staff, and refocused her attention.

No mage, however dull, upon seeing this "ruin," has any doubt that the young Lord's words were true.

This disaster indeed existed.

And he did indeed put an end to it.

"Everyone..." Her voice was calm yet incontestable, "Descend and touch the remnants of the Nest and these insect corpses with your Magic Power. I want you all to personally sense their magical properties."

As soon as she finished speaking, several young mages exchanged glances, exhibiting outright disdain.

"This... Grand Mage, is it really necessary?" one attempted a mild protest.

Flora glanced at him without a word, and the silent authority in her gaze caused all complaints to cease abruptly.

The mages eventually acted as ordered.

They took hesitant steps towards the insect carcasses and scorched remains, releasing faint sensing techniques from their fingertips.

Only in the instant they made contact.

The first mage's pupils contracted, his body shivering as if pierced by electricity.

He exclaimed in shock, nearly collapsing onto the ground, quickly severing his magic connection, his chest heaving violently.

"Magic erosion... it's like a spike piercing through my barrier, there's whispering, there's... noise... it's talking...!"

Another clutched his head and squatted down, his face pale, murmuring, "It's not ordinary residual magic... it's like some sort of consciousness, a non-human, primal malice, staring at me, trying to devour me..."

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