Alice in the Land of Steam

Chapter 1434 Is Waiting All We Have?
"Do you know what love is, Ovira?"

When my teacher asked me that question, I realized I might be in an endless dream, where everything I saw wasn't real, everything I heard was an illusion, and even my thoughts might not be of my own volition. It came from an unseen, irresistible force that peered into my emotions, stole my thoughts, and then recreated my memories.

And so, in the brightest sunlight of the Sosen Mountains throughout the year, I saw the blooming violets again, and that figure smiling at me from among the flowers. The more I wanted to see her before, the more bewildered I felt by her appearance now, because it seemed to prove that I was always walking on a familiar path, never truly breaking free from the past and stepping into the future.

My answer to this question is simply this:

"I don't know, teacher."

When I said those words, I was actually a little scared. I was afraid that the teacher would look at me with disappointment, afraid that she would lose faith in me, and even more afraid that she would gently shake her head and say to me in a sad and helpless tone, "It seems that all these years, you have been lost and have not grown, Ovira." Even though I knew she was just an illusion, my emotions were still stirred by her, because all illusions come from my memories, are fragments of the past. Can I deny my past just because it is false?
I lowered my head, bracing myself for the teacher's criticism or blame.

But all that was heard was a relieved chuckle: "It seems that all these years, you've been searching and haven't given up, Ovira."

I've always been lost, never growing; always searching, never giving up. The same thing, expressed differently, evokes different emotions in the listener. I can finally be certain that even if it's just a fleeting image, the person before me is one of the most genuine, warmest, and irreplaceable memories of my life. She has never left me; she has simply been silently watching over me from a place I cannot see. The moment she realized this, the girl named Ovira felt an urge to cry, but she forcefully held it back. Not because crying in a dream was shameful, but because even in a dream, she didn't want to reveal her weakness to her teacher.

Don't make the people around you worry about you anymore, Ovira.

A voice from the depths of my being spoke to me.

I told it that this was only natural, and I meant what I said. Then I slowly raised my head and gave the teacher a smile that was probably uglier than crying. I was sure that the tears had been washed away and evaporated in the deepest part of the sunlight, but I could still see the teacher gently reach out and wipe away a non-existent tear stain from the corner of my eye.

"You've really worked hard," she said gently.

I finally couldn't hold back my tears and burst into tears.

……

After that, I talked a lot with my teacher about my experiences and observations after leaving the Sosen Mountains, about my companions and the various people I encountered on my journey, about a novel I was writing but didn't know when I would finish, and some of my own worries and troubles. My intention was not to seek help or vent, but simply to confide in someone, like a traveler who has finally returned home after a long journey, unable to resist showing off his experiences to his family and friends, but always deliberately ignoring the various dangers and setbacks along the way.

The teacher seemed to understand my feelings, so she simply listened without interrupting. After I had said everything I could, she still didn't respond, so I mustered the courage to ask, "...So, teacher, why are you here?"

Instead of answering, she asked me in return, "Do you know where this place is, Ovira?"

Of course I knew. In fact, the moment I fell into my memories, I already knew where I was, but that's precisely why I was puzzled by my teacher's presence here.

"This is... an illusion created by the Holy Grail, isn't it?" I said hesitantly, but my hesitation wasn't due to uncertainty, but rather because I didn't want my teacher to know that I was merely a remnant created by the illusion. As mentioned before, even if it was just an illusion, to me, its existence was no different from reality. Being unable to distinguish between illusion and reality, or choosing to ignore it even after distinguishing them, stubbornly following one's own emotions—this is also a characteristic of mortals.

"To be precise, this is an illusion created by the Holy Grail based on your and the evil dragon's memories. You and he will engage in a spiritual and willpower struggle within this illusion until one of you emerges victorious and gains access to the Nibelungen. But everything in the world has its traces, and this seemingly fictional illusion is no exception. It is derived from your deepest weaknesses or your most desired things." The teacher explained patiently, her tone and expression reminding me of the scene many years ago when she taught me in the spacious and bright greenhouse of the garden.

So, just like that naive girl back then, I only knew how to repeat her question, displaying simple thinking: "My weakness? The desire of the evil dragon?"

“That’s right. Coincidentally, both of them are related to the same thing, which brings us back to the question I asked you at the beginning.”

The teacher paused briefly, then repeated the initial question, word by word, very seriously: "Do you know what love is, Ovira?"

"I—" I opened my mouth, but I was speechless and could not utter a single word.

The teacher smiled slightly: "Look, this is your weakness, Ovira. Even you, as the King of Mysteries, who thinks you know everything, have knowledge that you don't know, don't understand, or haven't even come into contact with. Are you simply afraid of it? Or are you afraid of its unpredictable nature, fearing that you can't completely control it? If you can get the answer to this question, perhaps you can find a way to leave here."

The teacher's words made me feel ashamed, and I could only whisper in defense, "I... I didn't think I knew everything, teacher..."

That made me sound like a naive child, someone who, having grasped a little knowledge, thought he had seen through the secrets of the world. To be honest, I used to despise such people, but now I feel only a little sympathy for them. "But what I see, hear, and feel all reveal this fact to me." The teacher reached out and gently stroked my cheek. Her fingertips carried the supple wrinkles of an old tree and a subtle fragrance—the wisdom she had accumulated over the long years, weathered by wind and rain, far more profound than any young person's self-proclaimed knowledge or vision. "Since entering the abyss, haven't everything you've done, everything you've accomplished, been evidence of this? You always think, 'I know so many things that others don't, I possess so many secrets, but these weren't acquired through careful observation or daily accumulation. Are they simply because I possess the power of royalty, allowing me to transcend all worldly knowledge? If so, shouldn't those who possess such power shoulder important responsibilities and achieve great things that ordinary people cannot...' Ovira, tell me, is that really what you think?"

I was speechless.

The teacher guessed exactly what I was thinking.

Sure enough, in front of her, I was like a little child, unable to hide anything.

“I won’t say it won’t work, Ovira, because you’re an adult and very smart, and you know better than anyone what you should do. But I hope you don’t put too much pressure on yourself and trust the people around you sometimes, especially those you love deeply as always.”

The teacher spoke earnestly, and upon hearing the last sentence, a face instinctively flashed through my mind, followed by the images of countless others, drifting towards an unknown and distant place. Familiar souls from this world appeared repeatedly, only to vanish in an instant, as if their purpose in entering my life was merely to leave. I felt lost, then fearful, and finally chose to face it. Was this process of accepting reality, or, as the teacher said, was it because of deep love that I was able to muster the courage?
"Indeed," the teacher smiled helplessly, "for a child your age, understanding what love is, how to love, or how to discover the existence of love is still a very difficult thing."

But the teacher just said that I am an adult and praised me for being smart. Why has she changed her mind now?

"And what about you, teacher?" I couldn't help but ask, "What does love mean to you?"

"..." The teacher pondered for a moment before slowly speaking, his voice aged yet gentle: "Love is a poison, churning within the heart and soul; love is a song, wandering in a desolate wasteland; love is a sword, as tenacious as life itself. To grow like a tree, receiving the nourishment of sunlight and rain, waiting for thousands of years in the mortal world, until birds and beasts multiply as time itself, and seeds and memories take root—that is undoubtedly love; or to walk like a traveler, seeing the wondrous scenery of the world, persistently pursuing a similar soul, until ideals and time itself settle, and visions and memories ferment—perhaps that too is love?"

I blinked. "It sounds like poetry. Is this based on the teacher's personal experience?"

“Sometimes it is, but most of the time it’s a consensus among mortals, they just haven’t realized it themselves.” The teacher smiled at me: “If you don’t understand either, why not seek the answer from others? In this illusion, there are more than just your memories.”

Only after the teacher said that did I realize that this illusion was constructed from the memories of both me and the evil dragon—the things I feared and the things the evil dragon craved. Coincidentally, they were the same. I feared love because I knew nothing about it. Someone who knows everything, yet doesn't know what love is, must be terrified, right? But what about the evil dragon? Why did he crave love? I had originally thought that such an evil, greedy, tyrannical, and tireless soul would crave something more fundamental, like power, authority, or… irreplaceable dignity.

It shouldn't be love, right?
If the evil dragon Nidhogg is merely a pitiful dragon yearning for love, shouldn't the spirits of Assyria, the hero Italos, and the people of Atoliga who suffer greatly from him find it absurd and laughable?

"It's hard to understand, isn't it?" the teacher said softly. "If you have any doubts, why don't you take a look for yourself?"

Witness firsthand a story about love, self, struggle, and despair.

The evil dragon Nidhogg and the world he chases.

……

Ling gazed at Ovira's peaceful sleeping face. The girl's long eyelashes cast fine shadows in the flickering light of the lantern, as if she were simply immersed in an ordinary dream. However, her tightly pursed lips and the occasional slight furrow in her brow betrayed that the dream was far from peaceful. Just a short while ago, they had stood together on this ancient warship—at the heart of the Nibelungen, before that massive metal door engraved with countless complex, twisted, and seemingly living, pulsating patterns.

The door's material matched the ship's hull; its dark obsidian color seemed to absorb all the surrounding light, except for a striking groove in the center that perfectly matched the shape of the Elder's Scepter in Ovira's hand. Thick magical energy permeated the air, the malevolent aura emanating from the Holy Grail intertwining with the ancient pressure from the dragon's blood crystals, almost suffocating the senses.

However, when Ovira gently inserted the Elder's Scepter, which served as the key, into the central groove, the eerie green patterns on the door suddenly lit up, spreading along the floor and walls like countless blood vessels in a giant's body. Inside the dark hull, the eerie light flickered, and the entire Nibelungen seemed to awaken briefly from its ancient slumber, letting out a low and satisfied sigh.

At the same time, without warning, Ovira's body collapsed silently, like a doll with its strings cut, peacefully falling into a deep sleep. Ling's reaction was astonishingly fast; he caught her before she fell. The touch in his palm was so soft, like holding a delicate violet. The girl's body was warm, her breathing steady, and apart from her unconsciousness, there were no other signs of injury.

"Miss Ovira!?" Selena exclaimed, but was quickly interrupted by Leticia, who raised her index finger and shushed the werewolf girl, silencing her.

As Ovira mentioned before, she will fight against the remnants of the evil dragon's consciousness to seize control of Nibelungen.

No one knows how long this process will last; it may only take a second, or it may take longer than a century. But the only certainty is that, in any case, all they can do now is wait.

Give me some cats