Alice in the Land of Steam

It has been five days since I left the Feather Mine.

When Linger used this phrase to remind everyone that time was slipping away and that they shouldn't let too many trivial matters distract them and cause them to forget the important things, he was instead reminded by Ovira: "That's not right, Linger. You should say that we've been on this new journey for five days now... that's more accurate!"

"What's the difference?" Lin Ge asked her. "Aren't they both the same time?"

“The key is not time, but mood,” Princess Berman asserted confidently. “The same thing, said in different ways, will evoke different feelings. Saying ‘leaving’ makes people a little sad, but if you say ‘embarking on a new journey,’ doesn’t it sound very optimistic? The future is full of adventure and hope, which is exciting!”

“…I hope so.” Lin Ge couldn’t be as optimistic as her.

"That's it!"

Ovira hummed twice, her nostrils flaring slightly like a smug kitten, and buried herself in the paper, scribbling away. The quill pen tip grazed the paper, making a soft rustling sound. As she wrote, she muttered to herself, "It's the same principle as creation. Whether a story is a comedy or a tragedy doesn't depend on the plot, but on how the author writes it. A skilled author can make people cry even in a comedy, and can even have a humorous and optimistic side in a tragedy. That's why we say that the creator's emotions are the most important, because they give the work its soul."

Ever since being persuaded by Linger to write her own story no matter what happens, Princess Beman seems to have had a strange switch flipped. She frequently quotes the writing theories she's learned, just like she used to love quoting famous sayings from books. She also often invites Linger to her room to discuss the plot and development. Although Linger doesn't know what advice he can give her, and even if he does, it probably won't be anything pleasant. Does Ovira particularly enjoy being criticized?

Moreover, reality isn't a novel; you can't link everything to creative writing, can you?

Lin Ge didn't say those words aloud. Instead, he walked to the window and looked up. Thanks to the blessing of a certain angel, the sky above Cloud Whale Sky Island was always azure, as transparent as a gemstone. A few wisps of clouds drifted by, and the clear weather was invigorating. But further away, it was a completely different story. Visible haze was spreading along the edges of the mountains and rocks, turning the entire area into an overly painted oil painting, the colors unusually vibrant yet discordant.

This smog was not man-made, and therefore quite different from the gray plumes of smoke that young people remember, which were always billowing through factory chimneys and slums on cloudy days, carrying coal and fog particles. Its true color was a dark blue smoke similar to that produced by burning high-purity sulfur, mixed with a ghastly green fluorescence that seemed to be emitted by radioactive material that had been buried underground for many years, giving it an overall suffocating and oppressive feel.

The only similarity between the smog and industrial exhaust is that neither is harmless. In fact, the smog in this region is even more corrosive than industrial emissions. As a result, everything along the way, whether it is a rocky mountain or a cliff, is barren. Only a strange tree that does not grow leaves and a few types of moss clinging to the crevices of rocks can survive. As for the animals, they all have thick fur and bizarre appearances. The former is the guarantee for survival in this corrosive environment, while the latter is the price paid for it.

As the Cloud Whale Sky Island gradually descended, this situation worsened. What began as a hazy, acidic mist floating in the sky had now become an endless curtain, slowly enveloping the entire land. Eventually, you might even feel that it was some kind of living behemoth, breathing slowly and heavily from every corner. Its invisible body undulated, meandered, and permeated along the contours of the ridges and valleys, staining everything within reach with its ominous hue.

The earth below was almost unrecognizable. The rocks were eroded into countless honeycomb-like holes, their surfaces covered with a greasy, eerily greenish scab, like some kind of sick moss, or perhaps pus oozing from the rocks themselves. There were no rivers, only dry, winding ravines, like torn scars on the earth, where occasionally a dark, viscous liquid could be seen slowly writhing, reflecting an unnatural, unsettling glimmer.

The Cloud Whale Sky Island stubbornly carved out a pristine realm within the fog, the power of the wind causing the highly concentrated acidic mist to recede to both sides, forming visible waves of haze, like the parting of the sea. If one were to look down from higher above, they would surely be astonished by this miraculous scene. Unfortunately, the people on the island were not so aware of this; from their perspective, they felt more like they were sinking into a viscous, filthy ocean, experiencing a sense of helpless descent.

But in reality, this is just the beginning.

As they ventured deeper, the terrifying scar that the Atorica people reverently called the "Dark Cloud Abyss" had only just begun to appear before the traveler's eyes.

Previously, they had witnessed the deep pit known as the Feather Mine, sculpted by the mighty forces of nature and a testament to human civilization. Over countless years of evolution and construction, traces of man-made structures—fortresses, walkways, elevators, mine cart tracks, warehouses, and enormous searchlights—had long since overshadowed the mine itself. In other words, nature's wrath had been forgotten, while the courage of mortals in transforming nature and the legends of heroes resisting tyranny imbued it with a profound humanistic impact.

In contrast, the Dark Cloud Abyss retains its pristine state entirely, or rather, it is a natural symbol of an ancient power. While the depths of the Feather Mine can be measured by human light and structure, the existence of the Dark Cloud Abyss completely negates this concept. It is not a place to be explored, but a wound. Would you want to measure the depth of a beast's wound? Perhaps you should be prepared to be swallowed by it before doing so.

Ovira had put down her pen at some point and walked to the window, standing beside Linge, staring blankly at the scar at the edge of the earth. The Cloud Whale Sky Island had landed in a dive, so its head area was directly facing the Dark Cloud Abyss. If it also had eyes, perhaps at this moment, two magnificent beasts were gazing at each other?
Viewed from the sky, the Dark Cloud Abyss is not like a canyon or chasm in the traditional sense. It is more like a huge, inward-curving, downward-collapsed spiral vortex with extremely irregular edges, as if it had been violently torn apart by some unimaginable force. The exposed rock layers have a glassy texture formed by repeated burning, melting and then rapid cooling, and shimmer with an ominous dark purple and sulfurous mottled luster in the haze.

The thickest, almost liquid, dark blue and pale green mist continuously gushes forth from the depths of this abyss. This mist tumbles and swirls above the abyss's mouth, forming a perpetual cloud, its colors as vibrant as an abstract artist's work. Visibility to the naked eye is almost zero, with only occasional flashes of dark red light from the depths, like the uneven pulse of a sleeping behemoth, briefly illuminating the twisted and grotesque outlines of the rocky ridges within, before being swallowed by the deeper darkness.

The origins of this forbidden zone have been the subject of much debate since ancient times. Scholars and the local Atoligaran people each hold their own opinions, yet none can provide conclusive evidence, leaving the truth wavering between rational deduction and ancient tales. From the notes left by the few scholars who dared to explore the surrounding area, a popular scientific hypothesis suggests that the abyss may have originated from an extremely violent geological catastrophe in ancient times. In an untraceable past, a chance occurrence—perhaps a violent earthquake, a meteorite impact, or even plate tectonics—caused a structural collapse of the surface rock layers, exposing dangerous underground mineral veins. These veins then reacted with groundwater and surface air, triggering a burning phenomenon that lasted for thousands of years, ultimately producing these corrosive acid fumes.

However, in the ancient legends of the Atorica, the birth of the Dark Cloud Abyss has nothing to do with cold geology. It originates from a more primitive and mysterious mythological era, said to have existed long before the one-winged hero Italos fought the evil dragon Nidhogg, only initially there was no mist permeating the mountains and rifts. Later, the Nibelungen, the warship that dared to challenge the stars but was ultimately brought down to earth by an unknown extraterrestrial being, crashed here. The blood of the evil dragon and the power of the evil god transformed into tangible things—all the minerals buried deep beneath the Atorica; the hatred of the evil dragon and the curse of the evil god transformed into intangible things, cursing all living things on this land.

Which statement is correct? His rational side leans towards the former, as it seems to better align with his understanding of how the world operates. But after all, this land beneath his feet is called the Eastern Empire Continent, and all the bizarre, strange, and unbelievable things are what people are familiar with.

"This place...is really uncomfortable."

Ovira instinctively hugged her arms. Although the acid mist permeating the entire abyss couldn't penetrate Ietta's domain, she could almost feel it spreading through her body, raising goosebumps on her skin. She whispered, "This doesn't seem suitable for a novel..."

The thought of having to describe the scene before her in words—the thick fog, the sharp mountains, the rough ground, and the bleak vegetation—and having it replay in her mind, made Aurelia feel a few more goosebumps rise on her arms.

Lin Ge glanced at her, somewhat speechless: "You're writing a novel, not a travelogue."

Besides, the young man felt that even a travelogue could record this scene. After all, there are many landscapes worth remembering besides the magnificent, spectacular, beautiful, and awe-inspiring. Perhaps ugly, bizarre, and even alluring landscapes have their own unique charm?

"They're all pretty much the same," Olivera muttered. "Anyway, I don't like them, so I'm not writing them down."

"So you just don't write down the parts you don't like? This author is being a bit too capricious." The young man glanced at her and said, "Then you'd better pray that our operation goes smoothly, otherwise, who knows how long we'll be stuck here."

“It shouldn’t be long.” Ovira was very confident: “I think we’re pretty lucky, and there aren’t many people here, so there are no other interfering factors.”

“If it were that simple, Miss Cheryl wouldn’t have entrusted this task to us.” Lin Ge wasn’t trying to discourage Ovira’s optimism; he was simply making a rational analysis based on the reality of the situation.

However, his constant nitpicking displeased Princess Beman, who glared angrily at the young man: "Stop saying such discouraging things, Ling! Think about your past self, don't you feel ashamed? Cheer up and move forward with an optimistic spirit!"

After saying that, she jumped up and patted the young man on the shoulder. As for why she had to jump up, it was probably to overpower him in terms of height, so that she could appear to be in the right.
Lin Ge was confused, mainly because he couldn't understand when Ovira had become so passionate, and he couldn't understand why she used to think of him as such an optimistic person. Something just felt off. But Princess Beman didn't seem inclined to explain. After patting the young man on the shoulder, she turned and went back to her desk, continuing to bury herself in her writing. Lin Ge wondered if she was going to record the events that had just occurred in her novel. If so, he hoped he wouldn't be portrayed as too negatively.

The only sound in the room was the rustling of pens. Ovira kept her head down, her long hair cascading down her graceful neck to the floor like a waterfall, obscuring her profile and making it impossible for the young man to read her thoughts. Seeing that Ovira had no intention of continuing the conversation, Ling left her room to discuss the remaining arrangements with the others. The map Cheryl had given them marked several suspicious locations in the Dark Cloud Abyss region. Searching all of them would be too time-consuming, so the young man suggested splitting everyone into different teams for the search, which might be more efficient.

On the way back, it suddenly dawned on him that the reason why Ovira hated the environment of the Dark Cloud Abyss so much could be because she was afraid of the dark.
Although the curse is waning, the shadows rooted in our hearts don't seem so easy to erase.

Just like...

The young man slowly stopped. The quiet corridor was filled with the scent of the past. He stared blankly at a door on his left without a number for a long time. Only when his faint breathing was gradually replaced by the sound of conversation coming from downstairs did he finally come to his senses.

He thought that people are always influenced by their memories.

It always has been. (End of Chapter)