Alice in the Land of Steam

Chapter 1327 Did you see the truth of the world?
It started to drizzle.

It was a rain of eerie blue light, with 0s and 1s falling from the clouds, passing unimpeded through the waves stirred up by the Dark Witch, landing on the earth already stained with blood and filth, revealing the true nature of this world. Weapons and chariots, ruins and wreckage, even people and corpses, all were deconstructed into countless densely packed, rolling strings of characters the moment they touched these eerie blue raindrops, drifting towards the sky.

Thus, the rain from the sky and the rain from the ground merged, forming a solemn curtain of rain that seemed to intertwine the entire world, creating an incredible and magnificent spectacle.

Caraboss stretched out his hand, expressionless, watching a raindrop fall into his palm. The two characters, which seemed to contain the most fundamental secrets of the universe, flickered violently the moment they touched, followed by a jumble of characters piling up and rearranging, and finally disappeared without a trace after a series of chaotic fluctuations.

This is not the power of a fantasy monarchy, but a conflict arising from another force attempting to forcibly control the laws of fantasy. This world is also different from the previous game worlds. The game worlds Alice created before, while some were complex and others were quite rudimentary, generally retained a sound basic structure and were very stable. However, the world she is currently in is incomplete and fragmented, as if the person who built it never intended for it to look like, but simply felt that it needed to be created.

The power it created was very familiar to Carabosse. It was called the power of faith, but it was not the kind of faith she was familiar with. It was so pure, so pristine, that it didn't seem like something born from the soul of a mortal. Otherwise, how could it resonate with the power of the fantasy kingship and become the cornerstone of a new world?

As for the force that sustains this incomplete world, supports its framework, and prevents it from collapsing due to the conflict between its rudimentary infrastructure and massive data input, Carabosse was even more familiar with it.

Destiny and monarchy.

She sighed silently.

Although she was his initial target, although he had long awaited this day, and although he was not surprised by her choice... for some reason, when the boot finally landed, Caraboss still felt a faint sense of bewilderment and... relief?
That's right, that's it.

Problems that can be solved through fighting should be solved through fighting. Whether it's right or wrong, victory or defeat, or even life or death, at least the problem will be resolved.

And when one day, even fighting can't solve the problem, the price we have to pay may be so severe that neither side can bear it.

The Dark Witch looked up and saw a tiny figure emerging from the rain in the distance. A complex expression flashed across her usually indifferent face, but it was fleeting, as if it had never existed.

Dark waves surged, the vast ocean roared, unleashing its fury upon the invading enemy. Countless frozen peaks and giant waves surrounded the witch, like a cold throne forged of steel, slowly rising and pushing her into the sky, blocking her path before that person.

The opponent looks quite ordinary.

She had long, cyan hair, a pristine white dress, and a calm, silent face that seemed unlike that of someone about to step onto the battlefield. She possessed neither overwhelming power nor an aura that could suffocate anyone; her slender, long fingers held no weapon, appearing more suited to plucking musical strings; her bare toes were spotless, untouched by dust or dirt, making her seem more like a fine work of art than a warrior.

Not to mention that when she saw her opponent, her first reaction was not to strike first, but to try to communicate with her.

“Carabos…”

Faced with the call that was so familiar in her memory yet had become so indifferent, the Dark Witch remained silent. An impenetrable darkness silently gathered behind her, transforming into flowing, boiling shadowy flames. She plunged her hand into the fire, her expression unchanged, seemingly oblivious to the chilling, deathly stillness that could plunge one's soul into an abyss. With a slight effort, she pulled out the icy object hidden within the scorching flames—a massive, burning shadow scythe. Its terrifying size and chilling blade made it seem more like a weapon wielded by a giant, yet it fit perfectly in the witch's hand, as if she, so small, was born to wield such a colossal weapon.

The burning black flames were as fierce as a red lotus, the sudden drop in temperature was as cold as hell, and the incomparably beautiful crescent moon arc concealed a sharp edge of killing intent. It didn't even need to be wielded; the mere aura it emitted was enough to cut through flesh and freeze blood.

“I’ve been waiting for you for a long time.” Carapos signaled the start of the battle with a short sentence: “Saint Charlotte.”

The act of calling her by name made the blue-haired girl momentarily dazed, but being distracted on the battlefield was a major taboo. The dark witch was determined to make her understand that negligence equals death, so she silently pressed forward. The shadow of death descended overhead, and the scythe danced in the void with gorgeous and dazzling trajectories, completely blocking every escape route for the enemy.

Saint Xialia reacted a beat too slow, or rather, having never had any real combat experience, she was not yet able to adapt to the Dark Witch's resolute and efficient fighting style. As a result, countless trajectories fell on her at the same moment, each trajectory possessing the power to cleave mountains and rivers and stop their flow.

But they couldn't budge the blue-haired girl's figure in the slightest.

Each trajectory that landed on Saint Charlotte was instantly blurred into flashing gibberish and characters upon contact, vaguely forming a huge "ERROR" message before collapsing into deep, empty data black holes and disappearing.

Data error.

The power of the Dark Lords has not yet fully integrated into this world constructed by the power of faith and the power of destiny. Just as someone outside the game can never attack a character in the game, Caraboss cannot harm Saint Charlotte from a distance of one world.

It turned out to be the case.

The Dark Witch instantly understood the rules of this world, but she didn't panic. Rules exist, and can be obeyed or broken. Either choice could ignore Saint Sharia's absolute defense, but given Caraboss's personality, she would naturally choose the more direct and efficient method.

With her scythe raised high, the Dark Witch continued her relentless assault, swimming against the falling rain. She swung her blade horizontally, then slashed diagonally, each movement displaying a breathtaking precision and elegance. Although each attack landed only with a cold error message, failing to penetrate her defenses, Caraboss resolutely targeted her enemy's neck, heart, and abdomen—vital points—as if to demonstrate her resolve through this merciless onslaught.

Saint Sharia remained on the defensive, her words choked by Carapos's relentless onslaught. Through the swirling, swirling black flames of blades, she saw the Dark Witch's cold, silent face and suddenly understood her thoughts: if words only swayed their wills, if reminiscing only slowed their sword swings, if the decision had already been made to resolve everything through this battle… then all options that interfered with the fight would cease to exist, or rather, would not be permitted. Aren't you the same?
Didn't they also risk their lives, either killing me or being killed by me, going to the battlefield for that kind of outcome?
Saint Charlotte seemed to read this meaning in Carabosse's eyes.

But in the end, isn't the purpose of fighting... to achieve the meaning of communication?

If you resist communication and insist on going your own way, the final result, whether right or wrong, victory or defeat, or even life or death, will be meaningless.

Saint Xia sighed inwardly, making her first reaction since the start of the battle. She simply raised her hand and gently plucked her five long, slender fingers in the air, as if playing an invisible string, creating ripples like water droplets in the dark blue rain.

The scythe blade, like fire, sliced ​​through the void, and in the torn space, sparks of shadow-like fire burst forth, but there was no real feeling of it landing on the enemy's body, which made Karapos feel disoriented for a moment.

Her attack missed.

It wasn't because of Saint Charlotte's dodge—in fact, the blue-haired girl remained rooted to the spot, quietly watching herself without moving—but rather because she deliberately avoided the enemy's vital points just as the scythe was about to strike, as if deceived by an illusion, attacking an invisible foe.

This is the power of destiny and royalty.

Is this a signal that you're starting to fight back?
Carabosse's heart sank at first, then she realized this was the battle she had been seeking. A cold, eager smile crept onto her lips as she continued to swing her scythe, launching a magnificent yet deadly assault on her enemy. She was intimately familiar with her weapon, or more precisely, with every method and technique of killing. She had transformed from a girl unfamiliar with slaughter into a butcher with countless lives on her hands in a mere century. Although she hadn't learned these skills to prove anything, she now felt a desire to unleash them all. Strangely, it wasn't out of fighting spirit, nor to show off; it was simply because… she felt a deep sadness.

The witch maintained a measured yet oppressive pace, advancing against the current through the rain. Her giant scythe would sometimes lash out, transforming into a massive blade of fire that swept across the void; at other times, it would stir up surging seawater, unleashing bizarre sea beasts that opened their gaping maws to devour their prey. Her attacks came wave after wave, relentless, and faced with such onslaught, Saint Charlotte seemed to have no choice but to retreat.

She retreated continuously, brushing past the blazing blades, narrowly avoiding their swift advance, still feeling the biting cold within the raging flames; she soared to the crest of a wave, ignoring the bottomless maws below, the only fate of being swallowed was death and eternal solitude. The Dark Witch's offensive was like a raging storm, towering waves rising high in the tempest before crashing down heavily, intending to engulf the nimble petrel and make the dark seabed her final resting place. But she was always a step too late, so the scene seen by the audience was more like the surging tide being led by the nose by the petrel, never touching even the hem of her garment.

Carapos was getting impatient.

Didn't you voluntarily step onto this battlefield? Why are you just running away?

This battle is far more important than you can imagine!

If they don't kill me, or aren't killed by me, the fate of the world will be—

Driven by her impatience, the Dark Witch Caraboss quickened her pace. With elegant and graceful movements, she wielded her enormous shadow scythe. Beneath the rain-like, dark blue curtain, her movements showed no sign of slowing down; on the contrary, she grew faster and faster, gradually transforming into a dancing comet, accelerating towards the finish line. The deep and condensed dark flames enveloping the comet's surface resembled the tail of a butterfly, surging with an inextinguishable stream of fire.

The dark ocean roared with earth-shattering fury, and even the battlefield below trembled and groaned. Soldiers on the battlefield, friend or foe, were temporarily reduced to data by the raindrops falling from Saint Sharia, no longer affected by the dark forces. The bloody and cruel war took a temporary, ironic respite in the struggle for power between the two young women. But now, hearing these mournful and anguished roars, every exhausted or heartbroken mortal couldn't help but raise their head, focusing on the battle so intimately connected to their own lives, believing they were witnessing a war between gods, filled with fear and despair.

"There's no need to run away."

Karapos's icy voice rang out amidst the raging black flames, quickly closing the distance: "Only battle has any meaning!"

A meteor streaked across the battlefield sky, leaving a striking trail through the dark clouds and the swirling blue rain. Hearing this sorrowful declaration, Saint Charlotte, who had been retreating and fleeing, finally couldn't help but turn back to look at Caraboss. It seemed to be the moment the Dark Witch had been waiting for, but when she saw the reluctance and apology in his eyes, her thoughts froze.

She discovered a fact that she had overlooked.

fate.

Yes, it's the power of fate...

The meteor stopped abruptly, as if time had been frozen.

Under the undying rain of light, amidst the scattered flames, Calabos slowly lowered his head and saw a chain, its end like a pendulum, piercing his chest and emerging from his still-beating heart. It was silvery-white, sacred and majestic; it was also golden, magnificent and dazzling; its end was like the sharpness of a spear, or the cold blade of a sword; it had once roamed between a maiden's fingers, meekly crawling, then merely a beacon guiding the way; now, following its master's will, it had become the most deadly weapon in the world, from which no one could escape its bite, for if fate had destined you to be chosen, then from the sky to the earth, from this sea to that sea, you would have nowhere to hide.

It turned out to be the case.

The Dark Witch understood everything. When she slowly raised her head, she indeed saw the truth of the world.

Give me some cats