Alice in the Land of Steam

Chapter 1298 Malice from Mortals?

The night was as dark as ink, so thick that not a single ray of light could be seen. Only the cold river wind howled across the empty riverbank, stirring up fine dust and withered leaves. A few glimmers of cold light flashed on the river's surface, barely revealing the enormous shadows that loomed beneath the water, like lurking prehistoric beasts, ready to pounce. But these were not living creatures; they were cold, metallic wreckage. A warship, a symbol of humanity's highest technological advancement, had been severed in two by an unstoppable force. The gun emplacements and towers collapsed with a deafening roar, the twisted metal skeletons grotesquely resembling giant skeletons, forming a desolate steel jungle beneath the water.

The dried, cooled bloodstains, like a lingering infection, were difficult to erase no matter how the river water washed them away. Dark red patches clung to the silt and crevices of the rocks along the riverbank, emanating a faint scent of rust and decay. Even the light reflected in the darkness came from the broken metal fragments or remnants of energy cores, appearing particularly glaring in the deathly silence, subtly revealing a chilling indifference of war.

Caraboss stood on the shore, silently gazing at the scene. The soil beneath her feet was damp, cold, and soft, as if soaked with blood and tears, but her eyes remained calm, seemingly unmoved by the horrific sight before her. The hem of her dark robe stood motionless, a stark contrast to the swirling night mist around her. But somewhere unseen, the Dark Witch sighed silently in her heart: "I'm too late."

A week ago, the incredible battle in which she single-handedly fought against the Iron Fleet came to an end. Its outcome gradually evolved into legends and even myths among the local residents. After a brief farewell to her sister Fafrona on the Nidhogg, Caraboss rushed towards the Ansers region without stopping, crossing several areas including the Broken Sea, Josie Beach, and the Guna River. Some of these areas were even in the midst of battle, but the Dark Witch paid no attention to them and focused on getting there. Even so, she still failed to save the fleet from the Lord Knight.

This was caused by Fafrona's carelessness, but Caraboss had no intention of blaming her. Who would have thought that the chief knight, who was so hesitant and indecisive just months ago, even when faced with certain death, ultimately leading to Themis of the Celestial Realm sacrificing herself to cover their retreat, could be so decisive this time? Not to mention that this was a war that had nothing to do with her, so even if she stood by and did nothing, no one could object.

However, for the knights of the Gostaff family, perhaps no war in the world is unrelated to them? Every war has right and wrong, and she will always stand on the side of the right, fighting against the side of the wrong. Even if sometimes war has no right or wrong, and both sides are merely ambitious schemers and conspirators, she will still choose to be on the right side and continue to carry out her mission of restoring order.

Only with such a strong sense of justice and unwavering conviction can one bear the weight of a victorious monarchy.

However, it is not without weaknesses.

Caraboss roughly surveyed the battlefield, her fingertips brushing against the cold metal fragments and scorched earth, her nose catching the most intense smell of rust and the most foul stench of blood. Besides the area where the fleet sank, she also discovered a simple grave in a nearby grove of trees. Although there was no tombstone, the clothing and standard weapons placed before the grave undoubtedly identified the deceased. Collecting the remains of enemies on the battlefield was a rare and commendable virtue, but for the knights of the Gostaff family, it was an innate instinct. She respected every enemy, whether alive or dead.

However, the hastily dug, rudimentary graves could not possibly bury many remains. The few mounds of earth appeared particularly thin and insignificant in the darkness of night. Furthermore, Calabos did not find the remains of any other Crusader soldiers in the area where the fleet sank. There was only one possibility to explain the current situation: although the fleet was destroyed, the soldiers were not; some had escaped the battlefield and their whereabouts were unknown.

Escaping from the clutches of the chief knight sounds unbelievable, but it's precisely because that person is the chief knight that Caraboss has this suspicion. She can even picture the scene: the Holy Crusaders, wielding the most advanced technology of the Western Continent and believing themselves invincible, looking down on even demigods, confidently attack the lone female knight, intending to annihilate her under their artificial cannon fire, only to be defeated by her in an almost cruel way. However, cruelty isn't used to describe her methods, but merely to state the facts. When she ignored the deafening roar of artillery fire, easily pierced the force field device that even demigods couldn't easily break, and despite showing no signs of using magic, managed to cut the Western Continent's proud magic warship in half with a single shot, everyone who witnessed this battle felt their worldview brutally shattered.

This is a power that no human being could possibly possess.

In a sense, they were right, but this conclusion further shattered their confidence. The despair of a collapsed belief was far more suffocating than physical destruction. When they realized they were fighting a monster far beyond their imagination, some with stronger mental fortitude chose to fight to the bitter end, ultimately becoming members of that graveyard. Although they could not return to their homeland, they were fortunate enough to have a final resting place after death due to the enemy's mercy. Others with weaker mental fortitude were likely to collapse on the spot. Their choice was to drop their weapons and flee the battlefield, or rather, flee this nightmare from which they could never wake up.

The disheveled figures, abandoning their armor and weapons, represent another form of death on the battlefield.

The main knight did not pursue.

Perhaps she felt that pursuing a group of deserters who had already abandoned their weapons and given up resistance was not in line with chivalry; perhaps she felt that these deserters had completely lost their will to fight and that even if they fled, they would not pose a threat to the surrounding residents; or perhaps she felt that the deserters from the Western Continent were too distinctive and would soon attract the attention of the rebel army, so there was no need for her to cause any trouble... In any case, she let them escape and did not pursue them.

These reasons could certainly be explained, but based on his understanding of the chief knight, Caraboss believed in another explanation: she was showing mercy.

It was not the knight's mercy; the knight's mercy is only for the weak. Regardless of whether those deserters had lost their will to fight or given up resistance, when they decided to step onto this battlefield, they were already prepared to harm others and even themselves, so they were no longer considered weak. It was the lord knight's mercy, mercy for the living.

Perhaps the more death she witnessed, the more she cherished the life she still had, pitied the beauty of life, and grieved for the hardships of life. Therefore, unless absolutely necessary, she was unwilling to let her spear take the life of anyone else, whether enemy or friend.

Just like before, nothing has changed.

No matter how many times one is reincarnated, the essence of the soul will not change in the slightest.

Knowing full well that doing so would bring her no benefit and would only cause trouble—desperate soldiers might leak information, holding back in the fierce battle would only prolong the war and be more disadvantageous to her side, and even if those deserters survived this time, there was a high probability that they would fall into the hands of the rebels and ultimately meet their end… But her inner emotions still compelled her to make this decision, whether out of weakness or tenderness?

Carapos sighed again, this time not in his heart, but as a melancholy emotion that had been building up in his chest naturally escaped his lips. The sigh echoed softly in the night, rippling across the dark lake. The ripples spread out, distorting the reflection of the steel wreckage in the water, only to be covered by new waves.

She recalled her earlier assessment: only a strong sense of justice and unwavering conviction could bear the weight of a victorious monarchy. In reality, that wasn't quite accurate.

Besides a sense of justice and conviction, there is another quality that the main knight lacked, yet it is equally important: learning to be indifferent.

Therefore, she is not perfect yet.

But this was only Caraboss's assessment of her. Perhaps, in the eyes of that chief knight, learning indifference wasn't exactly perfection? She had her own path and ideals, which wouldn't change. If they couldn't accept that, then they were destined to part ways, just like the division within the girl royal family. Long ago, some people fantasized that perhaps everything was just a minor conflict, and that the girl royal families could reconcile. Such fantasies existed not only between the established royal families but also within the witch society. But today, no one speaks like that anymore, because they all know that in the face of cold reality, ethereal fantasies are meaningless.

Reality and fantasy... When Mother created the first two young queens, did she foresee this scene today, and that's why she endowed them with such thought-provoking powers?
Everything is ultimately too distant and cannot be verified.

Unexpectedly, a memory from long ago came to mind. Caraboss stared blankly at the river for a while, the shimmering light dancing in her unfathomable eyes, yet reflecting no ripples. Although it was only for a short while, it was already an incredible thing for the decisive and efficient dark witch. Even Caraboss herself found it hard to recall when she had last been lost in thought.

To be swayed by those past memories, it seems I'm not cold enough. A hint of self-loathing swept through my heart, as natural as breathing, yet barely perceptible.

The Dark Witch gave a self-deprecating laugh, then turned to leave without lingering. Suddenly, she paused, her brow furrowing slightly, as if recalling something unpleasant. In her mind, countless waves of darkness, corrupted by panic, malice, and unbearable suffering, surged forth like a tide. This was not the darkness of the outside world, but rather the most filthy sediment from the depths of countless souls—viscous, cold, and filled with nauseating murmurs, attempting to drown this soul in an endless labyrinth, even though she was, in fact, the god who wielded true darkness.

However, the two should not be generalized.

The pure darkness is the curtain of the universe, and what is pouring in now is the festering sores of the soul.

All laws are inherently devoid of good or evil attributes; they are merely a reflection of the foundation of the world. However, mortals, driven by their own needs and preferences, arbitrarily assign them various definitions. Moreover, for certain unspoken reasons, such definitions often tend to go to extremes—either extreme good or extreme evil. Either way, they deviate from the original meaning of the laws and may even have a negative impact on the beings born from them.

That is, the right of young girls to rule.

The influence of mortals on royal power can be traced back to the early days of the religious concept. However, the situation on earth was not so tense at that time. Mortals pursued power more from their own perspective rather than blindly seeking it from others. Therefore, the belief in female monarchy was not prevalent and could not even be compared with animism.

But as the man revered as a saint embarked on a massive expedition, his iron hooves shattered the peace, and the flames of war ignited the fuse of greed. The power obtained from magic potions alone could no longer satisfy humanity's greed and desires, so they turned their attention to the altar, presumptuously believing that the young queen's power was bestowed upon mortals to spread faith, and that by contributing more faith, they could obtain more power.

From then on, devout worship was gradually replaced by fervent demands, and the temple was no longer filled with fragrance, but with the sulfurous smell of desire.

That was probably the first record of the large-scale use of faith power in mortal history. Unfortunately, they did not realize this, and did not even know that the young queens did not need the faith of mortals. The faith power mixed with too much desire and evil was more like poison to the young queens, which would pollute their souls, erode their humanity, and bring pain, struggle and even... depravity.

If mortals' blind pursuit of power while ignoring the risk of losing control, and their willingness to lose themselves in order to assimilate with the laws, is what they call corruption, then for the young queens, being influenced in reverse by the power of faith is perhaps the corruption they must face.

Back in the Celestial Sanctuary, Caraboss had experienced the agony of faith's power eroding her soul. Due to the distinction in the nature of royal power, the Chaos Kingdom often suffered far more from this erosion than her sisters in the Order Kingdom. She secretly led her sisters to Mirror Star, without Saint Sharia's knowledge, precisely to address this problem. Only later did she realize how naive she had been—not so naive as to believe she could solve the problem on her own, but so naive as to actually believe it could be solved.

Who can solve the problem of human nature, and eradicate the desires and greed that have existed since the beginning of creation—and perhaps even before creation?

Even today, no one has been able to do it.

Because at this very moment, Carabosse was personally experiencing the profound malice emanating from mortals.

Give me some cats