Alice in the Land of Steam

Before the echo of Ieta's whisper had faded in the wind, the earth beneath her palm began to respond.

It began as a subtle tremor, like a slumbering beast turning over in its sleep, its pulse languid. Then, the tremor quickly deepened and became powerful. Deep within the ancient gray hills, a vast yet tender heart was awakened, beginning to beat its drums. Thump, thump—the heartbeat seemed to resonate with the innate instincts of life, needing a great force to tell the people living on this land that the power of will is enough to create miracles.

The land beneath the angel, enveloped by her wings, suddenly arched gently upwards. The outline of the earth was visibly rising, and the hard rock layers were no longer cold and unforgiving barriers. Under the caress of her will, they miraculously softened and flowed, as if clay were being reshaped in the hands of an invisible master.

"Click——"

A distant and resounding crack, not a lament of destruction, but a proclamation of birth. The earth split open, deep fissures spreading outwards like winding serpents, revealing the dark, primal layers beneath. Countless soils, rocks, dormant veins, and intertwined ancient tree roots were gently awakened, dismantled, and rewoven under this overwhelming force. They broke free from the shackles of gravity accumulated over millennia, following the vast and tender blueprint of life in the angel's heart, growing, converging, and taking shape towards the sky, towards that unimaginably distant ocean.

First, its massive, earthy snout pierced the earth's crust, like a curious giant emerging from the water to breathe for the first time. Soil cascaded down like a waterfall, revealing the smooth, polished rock beneath. Next came its broad, hilly head, its naturally formed rock textures resembling mysterious totems. Then came its enormous torso, large enough to blot out half the sky, its rough rock shell covered with flowing, muscular bulges. The cracks flowed not with blood, but with gnarled, overgrown tree roots, like the ceaseless life force coursing through its veins.

When the giant whale completely broke free from the earth's embrace, the sheer size of it created an almost suffocating sense of oppression. It was as vast as a moving continent, its shadow instantly engulfing a black forest. Vibrant primroses swayed in the sunlight, refracting iridescent halos, draping this behemoth of rock and earth in a dreamlike cloak. Its tail fin swayed gently, each movement stirring up a deep, earth-rumbling wind, whipping up still-settled dust and forming currents that circled its body.

"Woo——"

A long, deep, soul-piercing whale cry emanated from its body. The sound was as powerful as an ancient horn and as clear as a mountain stream, carrying a soul-stirring resonance that instantly overwhelmed all the roars and cries of the battlefield.

A somber shadow emerged from the ancient sea, resolutely soaring towards the blood-red sky. Its massive form traced a solemn and serene trajectory against the backdrop of smoke and fire. It slightly raised its head, taking in the battlefield from a perspective that was more akin to looking up or looking down. In its long memory, which seemed to have existed since the birth of the earth, yet was also as brief as its first arrival on this world, it had never seen such a sorrowful ocean, nor such a sorrowful group of its kind.

If seawater is burning, what is it that fuels it? If steel can weep, what is it that drives the inanimate to harm the living? This whale, which has followed its master on a long journey, does not yet understand, for from the moment of its birth, the expectation and desire it has been given is salvation.

It is the yearning of life, the glimmer of redemption, the angel's reminiscence of those beautiful years, or the restless unease stirring within her heart. Born in bewilderment, searching aimlessly, it ultimately moves forward with unwavering resolve. As long as it yearns for the ocean, for the freedom of drifting like a true whale, nothing can stop its progress. Once, the Earth Mother spirit Titan, shaped by the prayers of travelers and countless fanatics, failed; the Order's most elite Deathbird Legion and Dragon Riders failed; today, even its sorrowful and pitiful kin fail.

On the whale's back, Ieta cast an inquiring glance at her sister, a look seeking reassurance. Saint Charlotte, however, stepped back, relinquishing all control to the angel. Her skirt billowed in the strong winds created by the whale's flight, and her gentle eyes conveyed a silent encouragement, as if saying: Whatever you want to do, I will support you.

Miss Angel's confidence soared like never before, and her will to end this battle where the inanimate and the living harmed each other became stronger than ever. Images of the past flashed through her mind again and again: withered primroses, a weeping earth, a windmill that no longer turned, and people who were repeatedly hurt.

When people are awakened from a blissful dream, they feel helpless and overwhelmed by what lies before them, watching tragedy unfold without being able to do anything, or rather, without daring to do anything. This weakness can sometimes be very distressing, but at other times it can become a source of strength. When the emotions within her surged like an unpredictable tide, telling Ietta that she could make a choice, the angel resolved never to repeat the same mistake.

In the distance, on scorched earth shrouded in explosions and thick smoke.

A soldier, his face covered in blood and grime, huddled at the edge of a shell crater, numbly reloading his dwindling ammunition. His uniform was tattered and stained with mud and dark red blood. His movements were stiff and rigid, like those of a wound-up toy. It was as if this was not a glorious war of liberation, but rather the last vestiges of mechanical instinct when life faced an insurmountable apocalypse. If he had initially harbored any lofty fighting spirit when he stepped onto the battlefield, it had long been drowned out by the sounds of artillery fire, bullets, and the crushing of treads, the dying groans of his comrades, and even the frequent wailing sounds overhead.

Suddenly, a soul-piercing whale roar swept over him like an invisible giant wave, shaking his hand so much that the bullets he had picked up from his comrade's body scattered on the ground, succumbing to the scorched earth and pools of blood. He raised his head blankly and, through his goggles blurred by gunpowder smoke, saw a colossal shadow rising slowly on the horizon.

In that instant, time seemed to freeze. The deafening roar of artillery fire, the booming of engines, the shouts, and even the sound of the wind on the battlefield seemed to be paused. The world was left with only the soul-stirring cry of whales and the colossal shadow that blotted out the sky. He opened his mouth wide, but no sound came out. Only his heart pounded wildly in his chest, almost shattering his ribs.

What was that? Was it an illusion? A new weapon from the enemy? Or some divine miracle beyond his limited imagination? Fear and awe overwhelmed him like a bucket of ice water, freezing him in place and making him forget even the instinct to flee. He watched as the imposing, majestic shadow slowly swept across the scorched earth, like an ancient deity passing through the mortal realm.

“A giant beast…” General Franz Sand stood outside the command tent, watching the shadow of the giant whale sweep across the sky above the Black Forest and fly towards the battlefield. Its two fins stirred up visible air currents. It seemed heavy and slow, but this was actually a visual illusion caused by its enormous size. In terms of actual speed, it was even comparable to the most advanced airship model in the Axis forces, namely the “Dragon Wing” unit directly under the Holy Crusade.

His first thought was of those colossal creatures that existed only in legends, revered by mortals as divine beasts due to their solemn and awe-inspiring appearance. Some said they were manifestations of the will of nature, others said they were the ultimate evolution of magical beasts, a transformation akin to mortals stepping into the ranks of true gods, and still others said they were descendants of the extraterrestrial monsters described by the sage Tumi in his travelogue. But regardless of the legend, they all mentioned the close connection between the divine beasts and the fairy race. It was said that nine ancient and mysterious divine beasts had even made a pact with the equally ancient and mysterious Fairy Queen, protecting the fairy paradise of Assyria since ancient times…

Even though General Franzand wasn't a native of Grayhill, he was certain that no colossus existed in the Black Forest. The decaying, corrupt land couldn't possibly have sculpted a spirit capable of forming a colossus, and the dark, eerie environment, like an eternal night, wouldn't be favored by fairies. Therefore, the origin of this whale-shaped colossus before him was worth pondering. The general suddenly remembered that the Eternal Night Woods had once been the base of the Ash Strikers, who had repeatedly escaped the Seventeenth Legion's pursuit by relying on the area's complex terrain. Although the Ash Strikers might not know the origin of this colossus, let's not forget that the Grayhill Eagles had a mysterious ally.

Recalling that mysterious young man, seemingly unfathomable to anyone, General Franz Sander, though he had only met him once and exchanged a few words with him, couldn't help but frown, a thoughtful look in his eyes. Everyone who participates in a war has their own purpose. The Eagle of Grayhill was fighting to liberate his homeland, perhaps also out of some unspeakable sense of guilt; General Franz Sander was acting on orders from the royal family, and he himself was unwilling to let go of this opportunity to fight against the Axis forces; as for the ordinary soldiers, their reasons were even more complex: for revenge, to protect their families, or even more simply, just to survive.

Only that young man, General Franz Sander, still doesn't know why he participated in this war. He neither vie for military merit nor asks for a share of the spoils. Even when ambitious individuals have long since begun vying for power and profit in the post-war reconstruction of the new order, he remains oblivious to everything else, remaining in his own world. He has given so much and asked for so little; he seems almost like a saint without desires.

The general did not consider himself a very good judge or critic, but he knew a very simple and easy-to-understand truth: the desires of ordinary people are always inversely proportional to their ideals. The greater the desire, the smaller the ideal. Conversely, it is also true that a person without desires would have an ideal that is so grand that no one can imagine it.

Just like this incomparable giant whale in front of us.

"No!" someone exclaimed in astonishment. The voice came from a staff officer nearby who was observing the sky through binoculars. He seemed to have discovered something horrifying, his voice trembling: "That's not a whale, it's not even... alive..."

His voice gradually faded, perhaps as he suddenly realized that whales, which are not living creatures, can soar through the sky, and that the power to shape and control them is what deserves even more awe.

……

Standing outside the field hospital, Lin Ge gazed up at the sacred and majestic rock whale. Its massive body almost filled the entire northeastern sky, and the shadow and awe it cast caused the canvas of the hospital tent to tremble slightly. This familiar sight, now appearing on the battlefield, moved even this young man who was usually unmoved by external things. But what truly surprised, comforted, and saddened him wasn't the sudden appearance of the cloud whale island, but rather the knowledge that on the whale's back, in front of that small windmill tower, unseen by those on the ground, a girl must have struggled with all her might to convince herself before finally mustering the courage to step onto the battlefield.

Although he had instructed Ietta beforehand, hoping she would lend a helping hand in times of crisis, the young man felt both gratified and somewhat saddened when the angel made such a decision, considering her past experiences. He felt as if he was forcing the girl to do something she didn't like.

But if she feels it comes from her own will, who can say she was forced?
“Ietta has also made up his mind.”

Hino, also a volunteer at the makeshift field hospital, had somehow appeared beside the young man, standing shoulder to shoulder with him. Her sleeves were rolled up, her hands still slightly cool from being rinsed with water and carrying a faint, lingering smell of blood, as if she had just finished tending to a wounded soldier and was finally able to rest. The young knight also looked up, gazing at the colossal silhouette of a whale soaring across the sky, drawing ever closer to the battlefield. Her tone was tinged with emotion, but it was difficult to discern how much of it was for the young girl and how much was for herself.

The young man did not turn around. His profile appeared even clearer and calmer in the dappled light and shadow of the battlefield. He was still looking at the whale, as if he were looking at himself.

……

On the back of the Cloud Whale Sky Island, outside the windmill tower, the enormous windmill blades turned slowly but powerfully behind it, emitting a deep hum. Surrounded by a profusion of primroses, even the crimson hue in the sky seemed to dissipate. Ieta patted her cheeks, her fingertips feeling the coolness of her skin and a slight blush from nervousness. She took a deep breath, then exhaled gently, calming the restless emotions in her chest. Her gaze hardened. She spoke softly, as if murmuring to herself, yet also as if speaking to someone: "Lingge, Sister Xia, and everyone..."

"I'm going in!" (End of Chapter)