Alice in the Land of Steam

Chapter 1326: Does it lack any imposing presence?
Please let me be your god, Ling.

At every stage of life, when the young man recalls these words, what first comes to mind is the image of himself being adopted by Mr. Yang Ke, and how, under his guidance, he kneels before the statue of the goddess, offering his faith. It was the first time in his life that he knelt, not before a king, nobleman, or other powerful person, but before a symbol abstracted as God.

At that time, the wooden floor of Tianxin Church was not yet worn out. The adoptive father was short of money. After spending half his life savings to build the church, he was unable to add any additional decorations. However, he promised to add everything that was needed as soon as possible: a sermon book and altar, stained glass windows and silver candlesticks to enhance the sacred atmosphere, and of course, benches for believers to rest on. Then everyone could sit on the benches and pray, because Goddess does not require everyone to kneel before her.

The promise his adoptive father made, how he toiled tirelessly to earn money to support his family, care for his two children while striving to improve his church, and even the rough touch on his knees when he knelt before the statue of the goddess that day—all these memories had become distant and blurred. The only thing he remembered was that he learned a lesson from this experience: God and man are inherently unequal.

The former resides high in altars and shrines, worshipped even if they are merely lifeless wooden or clay figurines; the latter can only kowtow and kneel in the human world, offering their most sincere prayers, even though they are flesh and blood, with their own emotions and desires.

He felt this was wrong, but society had already established such rules, and young people were not yet entitled to be unconventional. So he conformed and chose to accept it, though subconsciously he always avoided things like religion and faith. This might be one of the reasons he chose the unpopular history subject in college. The young man's adoptive father was not unaware of this mentality, so in the end he did not force him to inherit the church. But later, things took an unexpected turn, and that's another story.

This idea still lingers, and it has become even more pronounced since arriving in the Eastern Continent. He cannot understand why someone would tell a group of people, "I will become your god," isn't that tantamount to blatantly telling them, "I will be above you"? Yet mortals merely accept it with trepidation. Those like the Church of the Night, however, become anxious and uneasy after losing their god, and begin to speculate about the Eagle of Grayhill with their shallow malice: He must want to become a god, right? How could he not want to become a god? He must become a god! Because without a god… what will mortals do?
There's nothing we can do. As the young man listened to Countess Neville recount the story in a joking tone, he couldn't help but think that if one is a mortal, one should live like a mortal.

But how do mortals live?

Suddenly a voice in his mind said to him: "Linger, if you hold such thoughts, you will never become a god; if you always place yourself in the position of a mortal, even the power of faith and the ritual of invoking the gods will not turn you into a god, whether real or imagined; if you are destined to be a mortal, then you are also destined to be unable to save everyone. In that case, you might as well entrust this responsibility to someone who is truly qualified."

Who is that?

—Someone like Saint Charlotte.

She looked at him tenderly and said, "I want to be your god," but what she meant wasn't "I want to be above you," but rather "I want to save you." She looked at him devoutly, which in a sense was also a kind of faith—unconditionally believing in Ling, believing that he would believe in her, and then she would draw strength from his belief to become a true god, not the lofty kind, but like her mother, deeply loving, yearning, and also lonely. She looked at herself sadly, able to sense that this seemingly strong boy always carried an unhealable scar in his heart, but the long meaning of life always brings new life, just like waking up every morning and smiling as he says "Good morning"...

If it were you, you would understand, Ling...

Her hand gently touched the young man's fingertips.

"No!" For the first time, Linger reacted so violently, as if he had been electrocuted. He hurriedly pulled his fingertips away, but the empty feeling in his hands made him realize that he had given up many things in his panic and helplessness. For example, the game console and cartridges had been taken away by Saint Xialia at some point, and she was holding them in her hands, looking at him with a smile.

"You shouldn't have done that," Lin Ge murmured softly, though it was unclear who he was speaking to.

“But that’s all I want to do,” Saint Charlotte replied. “Besides, you said you wouldn’t stop me.”

This familiar conversation left the young man feeling utterly powerless. He had never imagined that distant promise would resurface at this moment, as if memories of the past were assaulting his mind again and again—about the night, about the stars, about a lonely and empty city, and about the unripe fruit hanging on the branches. Everything was bizarre and fantastical, like a dream.

“You’ve already used that reason once,” he said bitterly.

The blue-haired girl winked mischievously: "But I didn't say it could only be used once, did I?"

Then, she leaned forward slightly, stood on tiptoe to bridge the distance between their hearts, and whispered in the young man's ear, "If this is what you wanted to say, then don't be afraid of anything, Ling."

"Now, pray for me."

As long as I hear your prayers, I will be invincible.

The girl turned and walked without hesitation toward the distant battlefield, her long blue hair fluttering in the wind like an ancient banner, guiding the direction of her longing. Linge stared blankly at this scene. He didn't pray; he suddenly forgot how to pray. Instead, many images of the past flooded his mind: meeting her in the crowds of the city square, gazing into her lonely and melancholic eyes; walking through the streets and alleys of Rostin, feeling her presence in every corner of the city; gazing at the night sky in the heart of the ruined city, waiting for the brief moment when the celestial palace and the messenger would meet; leaning on each other under a fruit-laden apple tree, embracing her untold suffering and past; wandering alone in the empty banquet hall after the music had ended, until she emerged from the night, extended her hand, and smiled, saying to him, "Come dance, Linge, before dawn."

How should those restless emotions be placed? How should those unbearable loneliness be alleviated? After a flower blooms in full glory, will it soon wither away? If it hadn't been attracted by that fleeting light, would the moth have understood the true meaning of love? Should one be extremely careful in the darkness, chasing after an invitation without hesitation, until losing one's way, lost in such dazzling dreams and fireworks...? The young man slowly closed his eyes, and in his dream, the girl's face reappeared.

……

Saint Charlotte sensed the power called the Power of Faith. In the accounts of most people—whether it's Rochelle the Walker, the Witch of Conflict, Scarlet Witch, or the Dark Witch Carabosse—it's described as an irresistible force. It slowly assimilates your spirit, invades your will, alters your thoughts, and ultimately transforms you into the ideal god desired by your followers. That molded form is essentially a puppet, rigidly adhering to the meaning of its birth. Once it exceeds that scope, it ceases to be a god, and naturally, loses its divine qualifications and power.

Klinger's faith power is different.

It was warm and bright, its shaping of faith not forceful, but following a silent guidance, like a light appearing in the darkness, and people naturally follow that light, without needing anyone to tell them what to do, how to do it, or to what extent. Saint Charlotte couldn't help but think that this was probably the gentleness of youth; he was always like this, trusting someone wholeheartedly, yet never expecting anything in return.

Such a person is certainly unqualified as a believer in the conception of a deity, because the conception of a deity has no self-will and requires the believer to have a strong desire to drive it to interfere with the outside world, regardless of whether that desire is benevolent or malicious, selfish or selfless.

But to Saint Charlotte, to the girl who loved him so deeply, he was the best believer in the world.

Then, can I reciprocate his trust and become the best god in the world?
Now, let me give it a try.

The blue-haired girl took out the game console and cartridge, both emitting a soft white glow in her palm. Whether by coincidence or destiny, the cartridge the young man chose was the very first one activated by Saint Charlotte, even its name carrying a sense of fate: *The First Fantasy*. Looking back now, wasn't it from this moment that his fate intersected with that of Ling, Alice, Medea, and countless others? Everything—the origin of the story, the source of the fantasy, the first encounter—began with it.

So, according to a fatalistic view, it should naturally come to an end.

Saint Charlotte carefully held the cartridge, about to insert it into the game console, when suddenly she remembered something. Her hand paused, and a subtle smile appeared on her face. She glanced around; seeing no one, she let out a long sigh of relief and muttered to herself, "In Alice's words, one should emphasize momentum in situations like this. Let me think, that's what she did..."

Recalling Alice's posture and movements when she first turned on the game console, Saint Charlotte held the silver cube above her head with one hand, while the other hand held the cartridge pointing towards the ground. Her arms were parallel at an angle, a slightly awkward pose for her, but the girl tried her best to maintain it. Then, with a quick back-and-forth motion, she accurately inserted the cartridge into the console's slot the instant the two hands crossed, simultaneously uttering Alice's signature line. Although, compared to the genius gamer, her voice was soft and lacked power: "Uh..."

"hen...sin...?"

Whoa!

With a crisp click as the cartridge interface and slot clicked together, both the game console and the cartridge seemed to become unreal for a moment. They flickered violently, and the internal data conflicts made it difficult for the system to determine whether the current startup process was in accordance with the procedure. However, perhaps because the laws of the Girl's Kingdom are similar in essence, this state only lasted for less than one ten-thousandth of a second. In the end, the game console accepted the access request from the Destiny Kingdom, and the state returned to stability.

The next moment, countless beams of dark blue light spilled out from every seam of the silver-white cube, surging towards the sky and the earth, sweeping away a large area of ​​dark clouds and tinging the entire battlefield with a mysterious color, like an overflowing ocean.

Countless 0s and 1s surged from the tide of light, breaking through the boundary between reality and fantasy at a speed imperceptible to the naked eye. They wove into dense strings before her eyes, constantly rolling and recombinating, dazzling the senses. On the Cloud Whale Island, Alice's eyes widened in disbelief as she watched this scene. She cautiously reached out and gently touched the strings of 0s and 1s, which instantly turned into a jumble of meaningless gibberish, then into a violently flashing pixelated mosaic, before collapsing into a small, empty black hole... Only when Alice hurriedly withdrew her hand did it finally return to normal.

This phenomenon reveals their true nature: an extremely unstable game system, lacking the support of a fantasy monarchy, relying solely on some special power to exist, with its basic architecture riddled with vulnerabilities, naturally full of bugs.

However, even an extremely unstable game system is still a game to a genius player!

Who started the cartridge again? Was it Ling? I think I only lent him the console, and he's been acting all mysterious lately, I wonder what he's up to. Did he find a way to fix the console and cartridge? But why didn't he tell me? It's better to have a genius player start it than a half-baked one like you. With bugs everywhere, how can the game even run?
She stared blankly at the scene, her mind a jumble of thoughts. Suddenly, a very soft voice, almost imperceptible if one didn't listen carefully, reached her ears: "...hen...sin?"

For some reason, the moment she heard that voice, the genius player's emotions collapsed. It was as if all the grievances and resentment she had endured during this period suddenly erupted at this moment. She sniffed hard, then wiped her reddened eyes vigorously, her voice both on the verge of tears and amused: "What, that idiot!"

"It has no presence at all..."

Give me some cats