Alice in the Land of Steam

Chapter 1432 Have we finally arrived?

The decision was made, and the heavy atmosphere seemed to materialize. Ovira, holding the elder's token, gazed resolutely at the massive dragon skeleton prostrate beneath the blood-red dome; Ling stood silently beside her, his actions speaking volumes without words; Countess Neville sighed softly, clearly still harboring some doubts about Ovira's ability to shoulder such a heavy responsibility, but Leticia's silent dissuasion and Ling's tacit approval forced her to temporarily suppress these doubts and choose to trust her companion; Selena patted her chest, trying to bolster her courage, though her gray wolf ears still trembled nervously; Leticia was the calmest of them all, simply adjusting her posture silently, preparing for the adventure to come.

They must climb the dragon's skeleton, reach the evil dragon's chest, and finally, delve into its heart.

This was no simple matter. The closer they got to the dragon's remains, the clearer the tremor, stemming from their very life force, became, as if invisible waves were crashing against their spirits. It was not the dragon's might of legend, but the resentment and rage condensed from death itself, which had not dissipated over the years and had even intensified due to the distorted power of the Holy Grail.

Suppressing their fear and unease, the group first climbed the dark red snow mountain piled high with rotting corpses, remains, decaying wood, and swarms of insects. Then, halfway up the mountain, where the dragon's hind claws had gripped the earth and carved furrows, they successfully climbed onto the dragon's skeleton through the point where the two connected. The bones were as white as snow, yet icy to the touch, as if capable of freezing the soul. Each step on the rough, rock-like joints required utmost caution, for the surface of the bones was riddled with countless wormholes, reminiscent of the towering, eerie rock pillars in a burial ground, which, when the wind blew, emitted a low, mournful sound, as if countless souls were struggling and sinking within them.

The oppressive feeling of touching the dragon's remains was distinctly different from viewing them from afar. It was as if they were walking through an endless swamp, struggling to move; or as if they were drowning in a nightmare, finding even breathing incredibly difficult. As they climbed up the massive leg bones for several tens of meters, the surrounding scenery began to distort and shift. The dark red sky seemed to come alive, flowing with viscous blood, and simultaneously, fragmented and violent images forcibly flooded their minds—

That was a fragment from a thousand years ago.

The colossal dragon Nidhogg, its massive body covered in jet-black scales, hovered amidst dark clouds and thunder, its wings casting shadows large enough to cover mountains. Opposite it stood a small yet resolute figure, a single wing on its back, wielding a gleaming sword, weaving through the gaps between the dragon's breath and its claws. The dragon's breath, like a torrent of shadow, melted rocks and scorched the earth in its wake. The hero Italos parried and dodged, the sword's light clashing with the dragon's breath, unleashing blinding magical turbulence; the claws lashed down, accompanied by a piercing shriek that tore through the air, the hero narrowly avoiding them, the rocky ground beneath his feet instantly turning to dust.

Is this an illusion? No, it should be called a memory. They are following the memories of the evil dragon Nidhogg, personally experiencing the battle three thousand years ago that changed the history and destiny of the land of Atoliga.

Everything seemed so lifelike: the scorching heat of the dragon's breath brushing past, the sacredness of the fairy sword's gleam, even the fateful opposition between the hero and the evil dragon—all felt so real they were almost unbelievable. This placed even greater demands on the climbers' physical and mental strength. They not only had to withstand the oppressive force of the dragon's remains, but also had to survive and struggle forward in the fateful battle between the evil dragon and the hero.

Neville frowned, Leticia pursed her lips, and Selena's wolf ears were pressed tightly to her scalp, a low whimper escaping her throat. Only Ling and Ovira remained calm, seemingly oblivious to the illusion before them, focused solely on the path beneath their feet.

Avoiding the oncoming dragon breath, facing the terrifying roar of the evil dragon, and even faintly sensing the hero Italos casting his gaze from the clouds, offering encouragement and comfort to the brave successors three thousand years later, it all felt like a dream, neither real nor unreal. This strange experience was both deeply immersive and so disconcerting, making one feel as if their mind was being overturned.

Climbing past the dragon's hind claws, the path twists and turns towards its spine, like a pale avenue leading straight to a precipice. Here, the dragon's memories surge to their peak, the illusions no longer confined to the final battle, but intertwined with Nidhogg's past experiences: soaring through the heavens, looking down upon the insignificant creatures; destroying city-states that dared to challenge him; devouring precious veins and treasures; and coveting the power of the goddess's tears, issuing ultimatums to the fairies, not believing these small and lowly creatures could stop him... Pride and greed gradually seep in, eroding the climber's spiritual world.

As they climbed up the dragon's spine to its back, the illusion finally came to an end. The hero seized the brief moment of weakness after the dragon's dive, advancing instead of retreating, riding the endless breath against its current. With a single flap of her wing, her movements were lightning fast. She dodged the lashing claws and the spiraling horn crackling with dark red lightning, her target clear: the dark, twisted scale on the dragon's chest—beneath the reverse scale lay its heart.

The moment the sword light flashed, the scene seemed to freeze.

The massive body of the evil dragon Nidhogg suddenly stopped, and for the first time, the tiny figure was clearly reflected in his lava-red eyes, as well as... the sword blade that had pierced his heart.

At that moment, the illusion clearly conveyed the evil dragon's dying sensations: first, an incomprehensible, excruciating pain, followed by a sense of emptiness as its power receded like a receding tide, and then a chilling, bone-deep fear that transcended anger: the fear of annihilation, the fear of losing its supreme status, and even the fear of that tiny figure wielding the sword. Finally, all these emotions—resentment, anger, the overwhelming humiliation of being defeated by a lower life form, endless hatred for the world, and a raging resentment that, despite all being defeated, still wanted to struggle and resist—erupted like a volcano that had been dormant for millions of years.

A torrent of emotions swept over them, washing over everyone's soul. The rage of death at the pinnacle of life, and the pure fear of impending doom, were more terrifying than any fierce roar or the threat of claws. Even the most powerful Countess Neville paled, let out a muffled groan, and swayed slightly; the others were even more affected. Selena's reaction was the most intense. She let out a short scream, clutched her head tightly with both hands, and curled up, her wolf ears pressed firmly to her sides. The torrent of resentment felt like a tangible weight on her; her wild instincts trembled before this pure negativity, as if her soul were being torn apart by resentment and rage.

The battle only ended when the hero summoned the light of day with his sword, ending the gloom over the dark land, and the group was freed from the evil dragon's resentment. But before they could even see the true face of the legendary one-winged hero Italos, they were banished from the world of memories and returned to reality.

Only the lingering echoes of fear, resentment, anger, and hatred that erupted from the evil dragon before its death still lingered like cold embers in the decaying air, entwining in everyone's hearts, silently reminding them of the raging soul and restless will that once belonged to the owner of this massive skeleton beneath their feet.

After a brief silence, Lin Ge spoke first, his voice slightly lower than usual: "Keep moving forward."

Climbing up the spine, a huge scar on the waist, like a canyon, blocked the way ahead. They had to go around to the left wing, pass through the hollow wing bones, and reach the towering back. Below the dragon wings was the broken earth and the wailing souls of the dead. Standing in this position, the spiral horns on the dragon's skull were clearly visible, reaching straight to the dark dome. It seemed that if they looked up slightly, they could pierce the rock and carve open the earth.

Finally, after a climb that felt like centuries, they reached the chest cavity of the dragon's skeleton. Sealed within a cage of countless thick, curved, pale ribs was the heart of the evil dragon.

Sky battleship - Nibelungen.

It was tightly inlaid, or rather wrapped, in the very center of the keel's ribcage. The hull wasn't the common shuttle or boat shape; instead, it presented a menacing, heavy, and powerful fortress-like style, like a mobile dark fortress. The overall color was dark, like the finest obsidian, absorbing all the faint light around it. Only the eerie green veins that meandered across the surface, like the veins of life, continuously emitted a faint and sinister glow. These two colors and textures formed a stark contrast: the obsidian-like hull represented silence, decay, and the end of death, while the flowing eerie green veins symbolized twisted vitality and an ominous curse.

The ship was imposing and magnificent. Although it appeared somewhat small compared to the massive dragon skeleton, it was still nearly a hundred meters long and over thirty meters high. Its body was covered with traces of battle: huge claw-like dents on the sides, corroded and melted gaps on the edges of the deck, and some structures resembling cannons or firing devices that had broken off... But the most shocking sight was a gruesome wound on the port side of the ship, which almost severed it in half.

The edges of the wound were extremely irregular, as if forcibly torn apart by some unimaginable force, bearing traces of high-temperature erosion. Through the wound, one could see the twisted metal structure, broken energy channels, and a deep darkness. The eerie green patterns near the wound were particularly dense, like countless tentacles trying to repair the wound, yet powerless, merely writhing in vain, emanating an even stronger aura of curse and ominousness.

This wound was undoubtedly the direct cause of Nibelungen's eventual fall. Based on the legends and the scene before us, it was perhaps a mark left by Nibelungen when it fought against an unknown extraterrestrial beast while traversing the stars. Only such extraterrestrial beings with immense and nowhere to vent their magic could possibly contend with Nibelungen, which combined the powers of an evil god, a fairy, and an evil dragon.

"Let's go in."

Ovira's voice broke the silence as she pointed to a relatively small, seemingly passable crack near the massive wound.

The group carefully navigated around the pale rib cage, stepped onto the obsidian-like cold and heavy deck, and passed through the crack that resembled the mouth of a giant beast, finally arriving at the source of the legend... or perhaps its end.

……

Meanwhile, on Cloud Whale Sky Island, at the Fairy Sleep Inn, Alice announced some news to everyone.

"The Holy War Army is going to launch an offensive?" Ieta's mouth dropped open slightly, surprised by this sudden news. "Why? We're clearly the weaker party. Shouldn't we be focusing on defense?"

“I thought so at first too, but Miss Cheryl convinced me and Rorona, and the Holy War Army, at the meeting.” Alice scratched her cheek, trying to recall the meeting’s contents. In the past, she certainly wouldn’t have cared about such trivial matters, but now, as the leader of the team and the backbone of everyone, she naturally had to shoulder the corresponding responsibilities. Fortunately, her memory wasn’t so bad that she couldn’t remember things from an hour ago: “Miss Cheryl said that Axis forces have been discovered in the Ker Hills region of the Atoliga province. They are marching towards the Feather Mine at an alarming speed, and are expected to arrive alongside the Empire’s Dragon Fang Legion and Lionheart Legion, forming a pincer movement against the Feather Mine from two directions. I don’t know if they planned this in advance or if it just happened to happen, but ignoring it would have serious consequences. So Miss Cheryl plans to attack the Black Blade Legion’s base before the two sides can encircle them, weakening some of the enemy’s manpower first, making the subsequent defense easier.”

“This is what they call, offense is the best defense.” Lorona said with a smile, “Although the Holy War Army is the weakest of the three forces, compared to the Feather Mine and the Black Blade Legion, the gap is not that big, and it is even slightly stronger. If we add my alchemical tools and your Cloud Whale Sky Island, it will be even more certain to win.”

"Me too?" Ieta blinked.

“Of course, you’re a vital asset to our side.” Alice crossed her arms, speaking with righteous indignation: “And haven’t you been doing a great job lately, guarding the skies above the Feather Mine? Everyone says you’re an angel sent by the goddess. Yes, that means angel!”

Ieta blushed instantly, probably not expecting to receive such an exaggerated title. She quickly changed the subject: "Then, are the others going too?"

"They probably won't go."

Alice counted on her fingers: "Medion and Miss Livia will stay to take care of the wounded, Hino has other tasks, and Rorona will also stay to prepare alchemical tools. As for Gloria and White Night... Hmm? Come to think of it, haven't we seen them in a long time?"

Everyone looked at each other.

Give me some cats