Alice in the Land of Steam

Chapter 1150 Can You Hear It?

Lingge is not a child. He does not think that he can do what the Goddess of Creation, Paradise Assyria and the Assyrian uprising army could not do by his own strength. Even if he must do it, that person should not be himself, but the young royal powers - or in other words, the young royal powers who have lifted the curse and restored their full strength. Their power is enough to cleanse the evil, reshape the order, and even fight against the witch association to save this world on the verge of collapse. As a mortal, his only goal now is to bring the young royal powers safely to Paradise Assyria. Only there can he find hope of breaking the deadlock.

Seeing that Lingge really listened to his advice, Carson Borg felt relieved, but on the other hand, he felt a little regretful. He felt sorry that the teachings of the goddess were so beautiful, but they could not be tolerated in this filthy world. Since the war broke out and even children had to learn to kill and be killed, he rarely saw smiles on the faces of Mitch and Kadora. Until just now, listening to the laughter coming from the Tianxin Church from time to time, he even felt trance, as if he had returned to the past, when the colonial war had not yet broken out, the Evernight Forest was still a paradise for adventurers and merchants, and the winding coastline of Josi Beach had not yet been occupied by the invaders' steam warships. Occasionally passing by a roadside tavern, he would hear people laughing from the bottom of their hearts, adventurers boasting about how they hunted a powerful and dangerous ash creature, merchants discussing which goods were in short supply, and naughty children running around under the wine table, stealing the last piece of roasted venison on the plate when the adults were not paying attention...

He longed for that kind of state and sometimes wanted to join it, but he was a high-ranking defender of the religion, the darling of the former God of Night, destined to become the next archbishop's favorite. If he walked into the tavern, the laughter would be like falling into a cold winter, blown out by the wind, and even the tavern owner would crawl in front of him, trembling and greeting him with awe and fear.

For some people, watching others' humble attitudes is extremely satisfying, but he tried it once, but only felt boundless desolation and loneliness. So he always listened silently outside the tavern for a while, and then left silently, returning to his luxuriously decorated but cold and empty prayer room, offering devout prayers to his god for who knows how many times.

Later, the war broke out and he lost everything. He finally experienced the feeling of being in a group. Many of those who fought alongside him were adventurers who used to laugh loudly in the tavern; the merchants who helped him smuggle supplies at great risk had once revealed their mercenary faces by the fire; and even some young soldiers swear to follow him to death, and fought for their ideal cause. From their faces full of hatred, he saw the shadows of every child running around under the table, playing on the street, lazing under the shade of trees...

He was finally with them, but he would never hear the same joyful, sincere and unrestrained laughter as that day again.

Carson Borg didn't care about the difference between the Creation Goddess Cult and the Holy Goddess Cult, nor did he care about the historical significance of the Assyrian Jihad, nor did he care about how much fear and disgust the religious forces in the East Continent had for the Goddess's teachings. He just wanted... to make everyone smile again.

If adults have lost the ability to smile because of hatred, at least let the children who still retain their innocence and fantasy gain the power of smiles? As long as this can be achieved, Carson Borg doesn't mind whether the other party is the Creation Goddess Cult or the Holy Goddess Cult.

Unfortunately, it was too short.

Once they learn about the Creation Goddess Cult and the Paradise Town of Assyria, I'm afraid these travelers will leave soon. Undoubtedly, they are people with heavy responsibilities. Great missions and lofty ideals are calling, and they will never stay in the same place for too long. So, how long can the smiles on the faces of those children last? I just hope that this experience will make them remember that they are still children, and continue to smile in the future.

A smile does not generate power, but it is a kind of power in itself.

Carson Borg came back to his senses and was about to say something to the young man in front of him, but just as he opened his lips, a violent and rapid pain suddenly invaded his mind, like a tide constantly washing over his soul, bringing him a painful torture like falling into an icy hell. Carson Borg's face turned pale almost instantly, and every bone in his body seemed to be wailing and trembling in the extreme low temperature. The blood vessels were blown by the cold wind sharper than a dagger, and the blood froze in them, accumulating into a dull iron blue and gray color. Even through the thin layer of skin, one could see the blood vessels bulging one by one, as if they would break free from their restraints in the next second and shatter into a sky of frost.

"Mr. Carson...?" It was the first time Linger saw a painful expression on the man's face. He was surprised, but he quickly reacted: "I'll go get someone. Do you need a doctor, or... Miss Regina?"

"Do not……"

The man forced a smile on his stiff face and shook his head with difficulty: "No one... needs it... It's not... a big problem... It's just that my appearance... may be a little weird... I hope you don't mind, Pastor Lingge..."

His consciousness seemed to be a little unclear. For example, he had always called the young man "Mr. Linger", but for the first time he called him a pastor. This was an identity that he had been avoiding from the bottom of his heart.

This situation doesn't look good no matter how you look at it, right?
Lingge found it hard to believe, but Carson Borg smiled at him apologetically, then turned and walked away in another direction with the last bit of rationality he had left. The young man did not stop him, nor did he want to stop him. He just stood there and thought for a while, and finally respected Carson's opinion and did not call others, because he had already vaguely guessed what this man was going through. Perhaps he did not want to be seen as weak by his comrades who had been with him day and night.

But Linger couldn't just sit there and watch, so after thinking it over, he chased after him. Carson Borg had no intention of hiding his tracks. It could even be said that he moved basically on instinct, like a wild animal. In his path, trees were knocked down one after another, and the carpet of rotten leaves was covered with black ice debris. The shrubs on the roadside rotted at the roots, and the withered branches and leaves showed the same gloomy and dull color as the cursed wood.

The messy steps led deeper into the Black Forest. Linger stepped into the darkness without hesitation. When he found Grayhill Eagle in a hidden clearing in the forest, the man was so shocked that he couldn't say a word. In the dark and lightless woodland, the darkness materialized without knowing when, becoming as thick as blood and as gloomy as ink, flowing down from the branches of the cursed tree and pouring on the painful and lonely figure. With a suppressed whimper, the man's back was torn apart, and the pale bones grew wildly like the branches of a tree, twisting into horrible shapes; his muscles were swelling at an abnormal rate, and the ice-blue blood vessels protruding from the surface spread out more dense branches, even climbing all the way up to his neck and face, like a bush of thorns; and on his spine, ribs and shoulder blades, pitch-black spikes broke through the ground like the roots of a cursed tree, piercing the flesh and spilling thick blood on the ground, instantly emitting black smoke, and the withered yellow leaves and corrupt germs were melted in an instant, leaving only a large area of ​​dark erosion in its place.

Not sure if it was an illusion, but the young man could vaguely hear a spooky voice echoing in the forest, constantly calling out the name of the Grayhill Eagle. The voice echoed among the branches and canopy of the Cursed Tree, sounding like the howling of the dead and wandering spirits in the dark night, which was creepy: "Carson... Carson Borg... Defender... Carson Borg... Where are you... When will you come back..."

This scene is even more terrifying and breathtaking than the ancient secrets that have been circulating in the Evernight Forest!

Carson Berg, who had turned into some kind of alien monster, raised his head, his eyes bloodshot like a beast, and he let out a low roar that seemed both threatening and warning. Dark blood flowed from between his teeth, as if he had bitten off his tongue. But Linger was neither afraid nor retreated, he just stood there quietly, staring at the monster. Because he could feel that although this man looked almost crazy, he still had his sanity, and his willpower far exceeded the pain inflicted on him.

Sure enough, the next moment, he heard a faint voice from the monster's roar: "You really are... fearless, Pastor Ling..."

As soon as the words fell, the monster's twisted and swollen body magically shrank inwards, and in an instant it restored its human form. There were no twisted and tangled bones, no bulging flesh, no frozen and spreading blood vessels, and even the clothes torn by the spikes were intact. Only Carson Borg, with a pale face, stood there, as if everything that had just happened was just an illusion. The only thing that could make people sure that this was the fact was the dark blood that slowly seeped from the corners of his mouth. On his pale cheeks, it was as clear and dazzling as ink stains on white paper. Gray Hill Eagle reached out to wipe off the blood, and then swallowed the dirty blood that had accumulated in his mouth. At that moment, a look of disgust appeared on his face, but he quickly covered it up, raised his head and showed the young man a helpless smile: "I'm sorry to make you laugh, I hope my appearance just now won't make you miss your lunch."

He was still in the mood to joke, so it seemed that nothing serious was wrong.

"Is that what they call erosion and loss of control?" Ling asked directly.

The erosion and loss of control of the extraordinary people have always been a terrifying thing in the mysterious world, and it is also one of the reasons that prompted the ancestor of magic, Merlin Ambrosius, to reform the extraordinary system and create the magic system. In the Western Continent, the extraordinary people have basically been replaced by magicians, who have avoided the influence of the erosion phenomenon at the cost of their weak bodies; but in the Eastern Continent, the extraordinary system is still its underlying logic. Even after exchanges with the Western Continent, the extraordinary systems of the two continents have exchanges with each other, and magic has been introduced to the Eastern Continent by the hands of Solomon, the "father of modern magic", but the extraordinary people who have long adapted to this system will not easily accept the invasion of an alien system.

This was actually the first time that the young man had witnessed the erosion phenomenon. Fortunately, Carson Borg seemed to have gotten used to it. He used his strong willpower to restrain the dual oppression from the body and soul, and did not let the erosion turn into a worse out-of-control situation. Otherwise, the consequences would be disastrous.

"Power always comes at a price..."

Carson Borg smiled weakly, not shying away from the fact that he had been eroded. The supernatural beings in the East Continent, as long as they were not beginners who had just embarked on this path, were basically plagued by the erosion phenomenon. Unlike the West Continent, the East Continent did not adopt a strategy of banning magic for ordinary people. In every church in a big city, in an official supernatural organization, and even in the countryside, you could come into contact with this power. However, since the start of the colonial war, the East Continent still did not have much advantage in high-level combat power. In addition to the fact that those high-ranking gods cherished their lives and were unwilling to personally step onto the battlefield, the erosion phenomenon was another important reason.

However, how many people who voluntarily embark on this path have not already prepared themselves mentally? Some people are even not qualified to endure this kind of pain, and they go crazy for it, which can be regarded as another kind of "erosion".

Linger knew this very well, and he certainly would not stand on the sidelines and say something sarcastic. Just think about it, if Carson Borg was not a transcendent who was close to a demigod, the Ash Guerrillas would have a hard time surviving, let alone fighting? The erosion phenomenon was not absolutely irresistible. In front of the young man, there happened to be an example of someone who had overcome the erosion phenomenon with willpower.

Although, no one knows how long his willpower can last.

What really made Lingge curious and confused was another thing.

"That sound just now," he asked, "could it be a manifestation of erosion?"

"Sound?" Carson Borg was stunned for a moment. After he reacted, his eyes widened slightly and he looked at the young man in disbelief: "Could it be... can you hear it, Pastor Ling?"

"nature."

The sound was so loud and the forest was so quiet that it was difficult for Lingge not to hear it.

"This……"

Grayhill Eagle stared at the young man with strange eyes for a long time, and then withdrew his gaze at his inexplicable reaction. The already weak smile on his face became even more bitter: "Since you heard it, I can't hide anything. In fact, the sound you heard has nothing to do with the erosion phenomenon, but came from that guy's call."

"That rascal?"

"Yes, that cowardly, selfish, cruel, cold-blooded guy who thinks he is superior but is actually humble to the core."

By this time, Linger probably knew who the guy he was talking about was, but Carson Borg still showed disdain and insisted on saying his name word for word, mocking him openly, which was enough to prove how much he despised him, or how determined he was to draw a clear line with the past: "The God of Darkness and Eternal Night——"

"Roglia."

Give me some meow