Alice in the Land of Steam

The several suspicious locations marked on the map ultimately yielded nothing, which was disappointing but within Cheryl's expectations. However, the information about the Gray Fungus people surprised her. Cheryl actually agreed with Ling's speculation, believing that the Gray Fungus people wouldn't ignore the nearby underground mine and deliberately come to the surface to dig for ore. Any strange phenomenon must have an unknown reason behind it.

But is it definitely caused by Nibelungen? Monsters, natural disasters, even internal strife within the mushroom tribes—anything is possible, but Nibelungen is actually the least likely. Besides, the traces of the gray mushroom people extend to the bottom of the abyss, two thousand meters underground or even further. What exactly is hidden in this mysterious and unknown world? No one dares to make a hasty judgment.

Even with the assistance of Linger and his group, could they really find the Nibelungen? Or, to put it another way, even if they did find the Nibelungen, would it be too late? The Imperial Army and the Axis powers were both aggressive and clearly determined to advance, perhaps within a few days, their forces aimed directly at the Feather Mine. Under these circumstances, it would be unwise to place one's hopes on a vague legend, at least not a decision a leader should make.

If the Feather Mine were to fall, the foundation of the Jihad Army built up over decades would be destroyed. No one could bear such a heavy price, and the only option was to try everything possible to avoid it, even at the cost of everything.

Dark clouds rolled in from the gloomy sky, and the distant wind howled, crashing against the walls of Blackfire Fortress with unsettling roars. The gray-haired girl slowly closed her eyes, as if she could still hear her brother's once steady voice echoing in her ears: "Cheryl, the weight of choice lies in what to give up."

Yes, this is the moment to make a choice.

Abandon the weak and naive parts of your personality and grow into a true leader, Cheryl.

“Sephis,” she spoke softly, her voice carrying clearly through the empty corridor, echoing along with her slightly swaying gray hair, “transmit my instructions to Arnor: this exploration is over. Do not proceed further. Everyone evacuate the Dark Cloud Abyss and return to the Feser Mine immediately. Also, inform him of the current situation and ask him to inquire with Mr. Linger whether he is willing to reach another deal with the Holy War Army. I need their strength to deal with this war. Of course, it doesn't matter if Mr. Linger and the others are unwilling to participate personally, but at least, I hope they can lend us the Cloud Whale Sky Island. This is extremely important to the Holy War Army.”

Because the Holy War Army has no air force of its own, the only thing it can rely on is the magic cannons smuggled from the Empire and developed by the people of the Western Continent, which can barely be used for air defense. However, both the Empire's Griffin Legion and Wyvern Legion, as well as the Axis airships and constructs, have too many ways to bypass the Blackfire Fortress's air defense zone.

Once the enemy launches an aerial attack, the Holy War Army will be forced to cower in the mines, passively taking hits and waiting for an opportunity to counterattack. But frankly, if pushed to this point, the hope of victory is extremely slim. Therefore, Cheryl doesn't expect Cloud Whale Sky Island to be able to contend with the enemy's air power, but she must at least ensure the safety of the Feather Mine. Of course, it would be even better if Roling and the others were willing to participate personally. Although Cheryl can't gauge the strength of this group, the Countess's strength as a demigod vampire is undeniable, not to mention the even more powerful Xino.

"As for the return on the transaction..."

Cheryl instinctively pressed her hand closer to the scabbard of the fairy sword, Sidras. The fine texture of the cedar wood and the skillful carvings by the fairies, as always, brought an indescribable sense of security, which then turned into a feeling of loss. She bit her lower lip and finally said, "After defeating the enemy, I will present you with the fairy sword as a token of my gratitude."

Serphis raised his head, his amber vertical pupils fixed on the girl, clearly reflecting her struggle and reluctance.

It called out softly, as if asking: Have you made up your mind?

“There’s no other way.” After saying this, Cheryl seemed to have unloaded some heavy burden, and a helpless yet calm smile appeared on her face: “Besides this sword, I really can’t think of anything else the Holy War Army could offer in return. Besides, this should be a good thing for you, right?”

She reached out and stroked the kitten's head, whispering, "That girl, she is the last feathered elf in the world. Although I don't know what her relationship with His Majesty Italos is, it must be very close. It's better for you to follow her than to waste your time in this mine with only sand, dust, and rocks, isn't it?"

To guard the Feather Mine, Cheryl has not left the ground beneath her feet for nearly twenty years. As the guardian of the fairy sword Hydras, the Serfis Beast has also been guarding the mine for twenty years. Although it is not a natural being and has no concept of time, all sentient beings gradually come to understand emotions such as loneliness, pain, boredom, and emptiness over long years. Cheryl believes that it is the same, only that it is too understanding and therefore never shows it.

Serphis stared at her for a while before slowly yawning, seemingly indifferent to the matter. But no one could see through her true feelings, for Serphis possessed not only the appearance of a cat but also its fickle nature. When she lay on the windowsill gazing at the distant horizon, was she truly contemplating rather than simply daydreaming? When she looked at you with disdain and contempt, was she necessarily dissatisfied? Or perhaps, beneath her various behaviors lay a deeper meaning? Or was it only when people imagined her as too mysterious that they discovered she wasn't thinking anything at all, but simply expressing her emotions?

Even Cheryl, as its master—or rather, its companion—often lamented its fickleness, but this was by no means a derogatory term; it was merely an objective description.

So, is it that it truly doesn't care right now, or does it care a lot but simply doesn't want to express it?

Cheryl smiled, her hand that had been resting on Serphis's head naturally moving down to gently scratch its chin, playing with it as usual, while saying, "Even if you don't want to leave here, isn't there somewhere you'd like to go? Like... Assyria?"

If you can't find a reason to leave, then find a reason why you must set off.

“You were born from the magic of the fairy sword, so in a sense you are a fairy. In that case, Paradise Assyria is your homeland.” Cheryl said softly, “All fairies eventually return to their homeland, just as all rivers eventually flow into the sea. Atorica has no rivers, only endless sandstorms, so this is not your homeland, Serphis.”

After he finished speaking, the corridor fell silent.

Serphis didn't immediately respond with its usual low growl. It remained seated on the stone seat, its lake-blue eyes fixed intently on Cheryl, its gaze seemingly piercing through her feigned composure to reach the depths of her emotions. But Cheryl met its gaze, unwavering, without even a second's hesitation or retreat. The silence stretched endlessly, the corridor so quiet you could hear the sand pattering, a testament to the passage of time. Finally, a human-like resignation appeared on Serphis's face, as if it felt this was a rather willful act, yet one it couldn't refuse. It let out a soft growl, as if to say: If this is your decision…

Therefore, no one can shake this resolve.

Because the more naive, idealistic, and impractical a person is, the more determined they sometimes are. This is a lesson Serphis has learned from his many years of interaction with humans—especially the girl in front of him.

Cheryl smiled happily: "Thank you, I knew you would understand, Serphis. When you arrive in Assyria, please give my regards to Her Majesty the Queen."

Serphis did not respond. Instead, he leaped lightly off the stone seat, his tail tracing an arc in the air. He gave Cheryl one last deep look before turning and disappearing silently into the shadows of the corridor.

Cheryl stood alone, motionless for a long time. The distant rumble of thunder rolled across the sky. For Atorica, storms were extremely rare. The few thunderstorms in history were described as "the wrath of the gods." But if the gods had never cared about the people of this land, what right did they have to be angry at their choices?

The chill seeped into the skin little by little, heralding the prelude to rain.

……

Serphis moved silently through the dark corridors of Blackfire Fortress. The torches on either side of the stone walls flickered in the sudden increase in wind, stretching and blurring its lion-cat-like silhouette against the mottled surface. It did not turn back, yet it seemed to still see Cheryl standing alone at the end of the corridor, slender yet resilient, like a vine rooted in the earth.

Stepping out of the fortress's heavy gates, a dry, sand-laden wind swept over him, and the sky above Atorica was terrifyingly gloomy. Lead-gray clouds hung low to the horizon, and the distant, grotesque rocky mountains resembled a gaping maw, swallowing the already meager light. Serfis leaped onto a heavily eroded boulder in front of the gate, his amber, vertical pupils silently sweeping over the land he had guarded for twenty years. The clamor of the Feser Mine was drowned out by the wind, leaving only a deathly silence, as if a storm was brewing.

"A person with limited abilities can only do this much."

It unconsciously recalled Cheryl's somewhat self-deprecating judgment: that gray-haired girl was probably the most insecure wielder since the birth of the fairy sword.

What Serphis didn't tell anyone was that although it only took form after Cheryl became the wielder of the fairy sword Hydras, having absorbed enough magic, it actually possessed self-awareness long before the hero Italos slayed the dragon. It had always remained hidden within the sword, silently observing the changes in the world. It had been stained with dragon blood, and it had fought against the power of evil gods, maintaining its self-awareness; it had witnessed the miners of the Feather Mine rise from the lowest depths to the surface, ushering in a new life; it had also watched the gray-haired girl be entrusted with a responsibility she had never intended to bear…

Throughout its long years alongside the fairy sword Hydras, it has witnessed the brilliance of three wielders.

Italos, the one-winged dragon slayer, her figure like lightning tearing through dark clouds, like an angel descending to earth. Serfis still remembers her posture, wielding the Hydras, facing the mountain-like ancient dragon, her conviction pure, her sword's light so powerful even the stars yielding. That was an epic of heroism, radiant enough to illuminate an era; while Cheryl's brother, the original leader of the Holy War, his radiance, though not as dazzling as Italos's, was like an unquenchable campfire, warm and steadfast. Serfis remembers him on countless weary nights, discussing maps with his followers, his voice dispelling despair, his conviction uniting scattered sand into a rock. He was the banner, the guiding light.

As for Cheryl… when she took over, the Holy War Army was already teetering on the brink of collapse. She lacked the might to slay dragons, and she didn't possess her brother's almost magical charisma. She was like a cautious miner, painstakingly chipping away at the faint embers of a dark mine, trying to keep the flame from going out. She hesitated, she wavered, she placed her hopes in legends, and she revealed her vulnerability in quiet corners. Unlike the former two, she wasn't born as if destined to achieve some great feat.

However, Serphis thought that it was precisely because she was "unlike" that Cheryl was unique.

Italos wielded his sword for his people and beliefs, while his brother fought for his ideals and freedom; both focused on grand and lofty goals. Cheryl, however, remembered the name of every fallen warrior, frowned at the plight of miners' families, and would rather abandon a glimmer of hope than risk the lives of her subordinates. She even considered the fate of a monster that accompanied her. Her power did not stem from a desire to conquer or lead, but from an almost instinctive gentleness.

Are gentle people unsuitable to be heroes? Serphis doesn't think so.

Some wielded swords to slay dragons, breaking the shackles of the old era; some raised banners, igniting the flames of resistance; while others, with their seemingly frail shoulders, carried the ashes remaining after the flames had died down, carefully protecting them in their arms to prevent them from cooling completely.

Those who wield the fire are indeed great, but those who guard the embers are not necessarily insignificant, are they?
Unfortunately, Cheryl herself was unaware of this, perhaps because she was too easily influenced by external factors. In any case, as her contractor, comrade-in-arms, and companion, Serphis could disregard the outcome of the war and the future of this land, but he only hoped that she could achieve her long-cherished wish, no matter what price it would take.

A pale streak of lightning ripped across the sky, briefly illuminating the barren land in a ghastly white light. Thunder followed, deep and majestic, like the war drums of the gods, urging all living beings to fight, to slaughter, to let rivers of blood flow. If the land of Atoliga has no water, then let the blood of mortals take its place.

In this way, all poverty, despair, and sin will be cleansed. (End of Chapter)