Alice in the Land of Steam

Is Chapter 1417 the power of the Holy Grail?
Sure enough, there was a clue!
Everyone's spirits immediately lifted, and Ovira eagerly pressed on, "Besides this prophecy, what else did your ancestors say? Could you tell us in detail about the story between your tribe and the Nibelungs?"

Elder Momogu did not immediately agree, but fell silent, as if pondering the pros and cons. After a while, he slowly spoke: "Once upon a time, the Mushroom Force Tribe was the oldest tribe at the bottom of the Abyss. Long before the blood of the evil dragon seeped into the soil and the crystals of the earth veins solidified into ore, our tribe took root here and lived in peace and prosperity for generations. But later, when the children, teenagers, and even adults of the tribe came to ask me why the ancient Mushroom Force Tribe could now only cower in this dark and remote corner, living under the claws of wild beasts and alien races, I could not tell them that story, for fear of arousing anger and sorrow in the hearts of the tribe."

“I have pondered this for a long time. Since a story is not allowed to be told, then even if it really happened, it is no longer our history. Why do I still keep it in my heart and refuse to forget it? Now I think it is so that I can tell it to you, the people who have come from afar, at this moment?” Elder Momogu of the Gray Mushroom People spoke in a low and slow voice, as if every word carried the dust that had accumulated for thousands of years deep in the earth, with a heavy sense of destiny.

For the Gray Fungus, history is taboo, yet it is destined to fall into the hands of outsiders, who will either help them pursue an ancient and mysterious legend or become entangled in it, becoming the next victims. Which category do these people on the ground belong to? They appear powerful and steadfast, but the capriciousness of fate cannot be compensated for by strength and faith alone.

"If I were to say that you still have a chance to back out now, surely you didn't go through all the hardships to get here just to receive such an irresponsible remark?"

The old mushroom man's gaze swept over Ling and his group, seemingly piercing through time, returning to that distant moment that changed the fate of the entire mushroom tribe. He was already tired of suspicion and speculation, or perhaps his aging heart could no longer bear the weight, so he decided to give up thinking and simply act as the storyteller, handing the decision-making power to his guests.

As expected, the guests all remained silent, silently expressing their attitude.

Since that was the case, the old mushroom man didn't try to persuade him any further. He had said all he needed to say and had a clear conscience.

"The story should be traced back to my great-great-grandfather's generation. Of course, our way of counting generations is not quite the same as yours on Earth. In terms of time alone, it was about two thousand years ago." Elder Momogu used a very astonishing number as the beginning of the story, which coincided with Cheryl's conclusion after studying historical materials. At that time, the ancient kingdom of Atorica had been destroyed and the land was engulfed in war. An ambitious and daring warlord obtained the Holy Grail and attempted to use its power to rule the land, the sky, and even the stars, which led to the legendary sky battleship Nibelungen.

However, if we calculate it this way, the lifespan of each of Elder Momogu's ancestors was also astonishing. It's just that at that time, the Gray Fungus tribe was still struggling to survive in the underground world, and perhaps even the Dark Cloud Abyss had not yet been formed. Naturally, they never witnessed the warlord challenging the starry sky.

The people on Earth made a mistake stemming from empiricism.

They assumed that the Grey Fungus race already existed at that time, unaware that it was actually the result of human evolution.

“Back then,” the elder said slowly, “we weren’t called Gray Mushroom People yet. We were just an ordinary branch among countless underground mushroom people, living a mundane life, gathering food, cultivating mushrooms, finding water, and avoiding wild beasts… We never imagined that one day we would be separated from our own kind and become a different kind in this dark underground.”

But in the underground world, being unique isn't always a good thing. The various organs, senses, and even group habits that life has evolved to adapt to its environment have already proven their stability in the long struggle for survival. Blindly modifying or passively accepting things often only leads to unexpected results.

He paused for a moment, his stubby fingers unconsciously tracing the texture of the mushroom stems on the table.

"Until that day... a star fell from the sky, bringing a terrible disaster."

An unprecedented earthquake struck the depths of the abyss. In an instant, the earth shook violently, as if the entire underground world had been turned upside down, like candies and pastries preserved in a glass jar being smashed to pieces. The oldest parchment passed down in the Mushroom Power Tribe still records the scene at that time: towering rocky mountains were shattered into pieces, deep forests were overturned, magma gushed from the boiling riverbed, and ferocious cracks tore the earth apart like the claw marks of a giant beast, leading to even deeper underground.

What the inhabitants of the Dark World found particularly unforgettable was that when that star, burning with crimson light, shattered the earth's crust and plunged into the abyss, they, who had never known light for millennia, witnessed a pale, luminous sphere suspended alone in the empty void. They could hardly imagine how a world devoid of even rocks, soil, and plant roots could support the legendary billion people on the surface. A wise man of the Crystal Clan had used intimidation and warning to convince them that this terrifying number was indeed real, and thus even the most ambitious subterranean beings had to succumb to reality, never daring to set foot on land for their entire lives.

Now they understand that the terror of the earthlings lies not in the fact that they possess a billion lives that can be sacrificed at any moment, but in the fact that they can endure this empty, illusory world for so long, endure the unbearable heat emanating from the pale, glowing spheres, and endure the constant burning pain in their eyes from the intense light rather than the tranquility of darkness.

In the first week after the collapse of the sky (which truly was a collapse for the inhabitants of the deep), 100,000 subterranean creatures died from the sun alone; another 100,000 died from the heat in the second week; and another 100,000 died from the heat in the third week. However, the inhabitants of the deep were unaware that the people on the surface actually used the alternation of two luminous spheres to establish their calendar, so although their casualty figures were exaggerated, they were only a negligible part of the long history of the sun.

Four weeks after the disaster, death ceased, for the collapsed sky had been repaired. But in reality, none of the abyssal inhabitants had participated in this magnificent undertaking; fearing being burned to ashes by the sun the moment they approached, how could they dare entertain such a rebellious thought? Everything could be attributed to the power of nature: after the crimson star fell, some saw crimson blood flow like a river through the earth, merging into its veins. Soon after, countless unfamiliar minerals sprouted from the familiar soil, filling the cracks in the dome, repairing the wounds in the crust, and even supporting the crumbling subterranean world like a skeleton. Thus, everything returned to normal; apart from a few scattered traces remaining at the crash site, no one would perceive any difference from before.

“Only the traces on the ground remain.” At this point, Elder Momogu seemed to recall something, and in the slow tone characteristic of an elderly person chatting, he casually revealed a historical secret: “You people on the ground call it the Great Abyss.” “Could it be the Dark Cloud Great Abyss?” Ovira asked thoughtfully.

"Perhaps that's the name," the old mushroom man said cautiously. "I can't quite remember."

But considering the geographical location of the abyss and its bottom, that's undoubtedly the case.

It seems the group inadvertently solved a problem that geographers, historians, and geologists had been exploring: the mystery of the formation of the Dark Cloud Abyss. But it was so unbelievable that perhaps no one would believe it, just as the inhabitants of the abyss wouldn't believe that they had seen the exact same sky as the Atorica people through the cracks torn open by the stars. For this ancient, dark world, that was perhaps the closest they had ever come to the surface in their entire existence. Even their later unexpected encounter with the miners of the Feather Mine at the bottom of the pit was more perilous than anything else, lacking the sense of destiny they felt at the time.

The room was quiet, save for the elder's hoarse voice and a faint throbbing sound coming from somewhere, perhaps the heartbeat of darkness. Ovira held her breath, Ling frowned in thought, Leticia and Serena both abandoned their nonchalant expressions, and even Countess Neville leaned forward slightly, listening intently.

"After the impact, although the sunlight had dissipated, the earth was still scorching hot, and the air was filled with a pungent smell. The tribal elder at that time, one of my ancestors, made a decision that no one in the tribe could understand—he wanted to go deep into the abyss to find the source of the destruction."

"The people were terrified and tried their best to dissuade him. But the ancestor was exceptionally stubborn. He believed that the object that fell from the sky contained unimaginable power, which might be a crisis, or it might become an opportunity. When other subterranean beings were in awe of its power and hesitated to move forward, the mushroom people who dared to take the first step would gain the upper hand. He also said that he could no longer watch his people toil day and night, only to obtain food that was barely enough to fill their stomachs; he did not want to see the bravest warrior of the tribe die at the hands of monsters; he did not want to sit idly by and watch children lose their lives, teenagers lose their hope, and adults lose their dreams... If everything was worth changing, then he was willing to be the first to try."

"To be honest, I didn't understand my ancestors' choice when I was young. Perhaps I hadn't realized the weight and helplessness of life back then. It wasn't until I took over the position of elder that I began to understand." A light mixed with awe and complexity flashed in the elder's eyes, and he smiled with difficulty: "That's true, but if it were me at the time, I certainly wouldn't have made such a decision. After all, I didn't have that kind of courage."

Ideals need to be accompanied by courage; without both, they are merely wishful thinking.

"Later, during the long and anxious wait of the people, the team that went to explore the land of the fallen star finally returned, covered in wounds and exhausted, but also bringing back an unimaginable miracle."

"Our ancestors told their people that at the bottom of the Abyss, they found the enormous ark, almost intact. It lay there silently, like a sleeping behemoth, its surface still retaining an astonishing warmth and emitting a strange light. They could not enter its core, but among the broken cabins and scattered debris on the ark's perimeter, they discovered many minerals they had never seen before. Our ancestors, who had spent three hundred monotonous years in darkness and were recognized as the wisest among the mushroom people, had never seen these minerals before; it was as if they had grown from the ground after the ark crashed."

“Those ores helped the tribe through a difficult period,” Elder Momogu’s gaze swept over the thirteen items on the table, and then seemed to see something even more distant. “We used the hardest ores to forge weapons, used ores that could release heat to keep warm and cultivate mushrooms, and used ores that could release faint light to replace the flying insects and spores that provided illumination… In this way, we became the most powerful mushroom tribe in the depths of the abyss.”

Although the most powerful mushroom tribe was still just mushroom people and couldn't compete with other powerful underground races, the ambitious mushroom elder firmly believed that this was a good start. He reasoned that if they persisted, the mushroom tribe would eventually transform. To this end, he even made a bold decision: to relocate the entire tribe to the site of the Ark's crash. At that time, it had become a forbidden zone at the bottom of the abyss, a place where beasts dared not approach and other creatures trembled at the mere mention of its name—truly the most suitable place to live.

Faced with the elders' prestige and practical benefits, the clansmen agreed to the decision and launched a massive migration project. Little did they know that this migration would later become a habit deeply rooted in the bones of their descendants, no longer for pursuit, but for escape.

In the initial period after the migration, the tribe did indeed experience significant growth and prosperity. However, the change began with the mushroom people's attitude towards the Nibelungs. At first, they believed that the Nibelungs had fallen from the sky, but after witnessing them firsthand, they thought they were war monsters created by earthly people. Later, however, they gradually came to worship them as gods, praying devoutly day and night, hoping to move the gods.

"The tribesmen built an altar in the village, offering the finest fungi, the brightest crystals, and the most precious minerals. They prayed to it for food, and soon, plump and edible unknown mushrooms would magically grow nearby; they prayed for weapons, and then sharper and stronger pieces of metal could be found in the surrounding wreckage; they prayed for safety, and dangerous creatures that approached the village seemed to inexplicably decrease... It seemed to truly hear our voices and generously give us everything we needed."

"Is this roughly what 'wishes come true' means?"

Elder Momogu sighed deeply, while Ovira and her companions exchanged glances, all seeing surprise and contemplation in each other's eyes.

Isn't this the power of the Holy Grail?

Give me some cats