Alice in the Land of Steam

Chapter 1443: Stories of the Past?
A gasp of amazement rose from below, a clamor that swept across the land like a tidal wave, momentarily drowning out the howling winds of Mount Platinum. Every dragon witnessing the ceremony was stunned, for they had never imagined that the colossal dragon of heaven and earth, Herasvalg, on whom such high hopes were placed, would fall into such a disadvantageous position.

Their words were a nuisance to Nidhogg, like the buzzing of flies, utterly irritating him. He suddenly lowered his head and let out a deafening roar. The ceaseless dragon's roar transformed into a visible gale that swept across the ancient and majestic city, shaking it like a lone boat in a storm, teetering on the brink of capsizing.

Nidhogg's actions seemed unexpected. In his roar, the incessant discussion suddenly stopped, like a musical piece being abruptly cut off. The abrupt halt felt like the entire city falling into a deathly silence. After they came to their senses, they showed expressions of disbelief, and their briefly suppressed emotions erupted even more violently. They cursed and rebuked, all directed at the audacious Nidhogg.

Heraswalg was also shocked by Nidhogg's actions. After a moment of stunned silence, he spoke, his tone complex: "You really are... always surprising, Nidhogg."

Nidhogg ignored the other dragons' angry shouts and rebukes, turned his gaze back to his opponent, and said calmly, "I just find them annoying."

"Hahaha."

Heraswalg actually smiled and nodded slightly, his words full of agreement: "You're right. Actually, I think so too. But no one has ever shown it so directly through their actions like you have. Perhaps you are the first dragon to dare to do this in the selection ceremony. Don't you know that His Majesty is also witnessing this duel?"

He was referring to Bahamut, the Dragon King. Although he was about to abdicate, he was still the ruler of this ancient race until the selection ceremony ended. Nidhogg's actions could be considered an offense.

"I don't know, and I don't care."

Nidhogg's gaze was cold: "I only do what I want to do."

"It's so nice to be able to do whatever I want."

"Does what you want to do also include defeating me here and obtaining the title of Dragon King?" Horaswalg asked.

Hearing his question, Nidhogg remained expressionless and coldly replied, "I've said it before, I didn't come here for such trivial matters."

"Then..."

"I will make you lose your pride."

Nidhogg's gaze was as sharp as an arrow that never stops: "That disgusting, meaningless pride."

"Oh, so you were serious after all."

Herathwalg was surprised. He had heard the words earlier and thought it was Nidhogg's unintentional remark. He felt that even if Nidhogg's purpose in stepping onto the dueling stage was not to prove himself or to win the Dragon King's throne, it would not be so simple and direct. He did not expect that Nidhogg was serious.

Does this sound like a joke?

"No, that's not what I meant, but... you might be disappointed."

Heraswalg smiled casually: "Because I have no pride to lose."

"..."

Nidhogg stared intently at his rival's face, trying to discern the slightest hesitation or unease in his expression or gaze, but to no avail. Herraswalg's expression remained calm, and his gaze retained its original clarity and purity, like a mirror from which one could see right through.

This means that he was serious.

As the noblest bloodline, the most outstanding genius, and the most admired sun among dragons, Horace Vargoth felt he had nothing to be proud of. Therefore, Nidhogg's claim was flawed from the start.

After all, you can't take something away from a person that doesn't exist.

But if Nidhogg said that, would he really believe it?

"Do not make jokes!"

He roared, flapped his wings, and unleashed a raging black storm, suddenly charging towards Hrathwalg. His speed was so fast that it couldn't be described as flying; it was more like weaving through storms and spaces. One second he was a thousand meters away, and the next he was right in front of him, his massive jaws agape, his fangs snapping at Hrathwalg. At the same time, his claws shot out, and his tail swept upwards, the fierce attack instantly sealing off all of Hrathwalg's escape routes.

But Herasvalg remained calm, breathing out howling hurricanes from the gaps in its scales, instantly sweeping around its side to form a sturdy shield, firmly protecting it from the attacks coming from the front. Nidhogg's claws landed on this shield, shaking it violently, but could not break through its defenses and injure Herasvalg hiding behind it.

Taking advantage of this opportunity, the dragon of heaven and earth quickly retreated, repeating its previous fighting style to create distance. At the same time, its injured wings stirred up a storm and attacked Nidhogg, using the power of the gale to entangle it in place, preventing it from continuing to pursue.

The tangible gale transformed into countless sharp swords, attacking every corner of Nidhogg's body, tearing countless fine wounds, blood splattering like molten lava. Nidhogg was as if trapped in a muddy swamp, constantly struggling to break free from the storm's grip, while glaring angrily at his rival, unable to extinguish the fury in his eyes: "Is all you can do is run away, Heraswalg!"

“I’m simply choosing the most rational way to fight, and I’ve been doing it all these years.” Hraswarg’s breathing was rapid; clearly, Nidhogg’s relentless onslaught was taking its toll. His once-brilliant platinum scales were now stained with too much blood and had lost their original luster. “I’ve told you before, I have no pride whatsoever. Whether in the past or present, I’ve always done what I should do, acted in the way I felt was right, regardless of fairness or justice, and without considering them as a challenge or an honor. It’s only because I’ve always succeeded that others see my seriousness as pride.”

"Then what did you say before mean!?"

Nidhogg roared, and the towering walls that rose from the mountains crumbled and collapsed. Black boulders, controlled by a pair of invisible giant hands, swept past like a dark and oppressive meteor shower, breathing out terrifying and turbulent storms that rivaled the hurricanes blown by Hrathwalg, and gradually advanced, slowly eroding the enemy's strength.

He pulled himself out of the swamp and approached Heraswalg with unwavering determination, his shadow growing ever larger, seemingly about to engulf the entire mountain range.

"A piece of cake."

Heraswalg spoke as casually as if he were talking about something as trivial as eating or drinking: "I have no pride, but I do have the throne of the Dragon King. I do have the blood of the Dragon King flowing through my veins, after all. If someone wants to step onto the stage to compete for this position for reasons other than honor or responsibility, then, as someone who inherits the expectations of my ancestors, don't I have a perfectly legitimate reason to correct him?"

"Are you saying you pursued this position because of the ancestors' expectations?! Is your pride really less important than the words and attitudes of others?!"

“Ah, I’ve said it many times already, Nidhogg.”

A bitter smile appeared on the face of the colossal dragon of heaven and earth: "I have no pride to speak of..."

"You have!"

Nidhogg tore through the storm with his dragon wings, descending upon Horacevarg amidst the chaotic aura. He didn't immediately retaliate, but instead stared intently at Horacevarg, his gaze revealing a calm yet intense anger, a deep and unwavering resolve: "If not, then what about what you said to me when we first met?!"

Upon their first meeting... Heraswalg paused slightly, some past memories surfacing in his mind. He hadn't expected Nidhogg to bring up this memory, since the other seemed to hate his existence. Why would he bring it up on his own initiative?
Before he could even grasp the cause and effect or the complex reasons behind it all, Nidhogg seized the opportunity of his distraction, grabbed his shoulder, and with all his might, propelled by the black storm, flung Hrasvalg's massive body away like a meteorite. The piercing whistling sound tore through eardrums and roared through the void, leaving ripples of explosions in the path Hrasvalg had taken. Amidst the faint shouts of the dragons witnessing the ceremony, Hrasvalg felt his body losing weight, as if he were at the bottom of the ocean, uncontrollably plummeting towards the darkest abyss. But the next moment, Nidhogg's face appeared before him—angry, stubborn, unwilling, struggling… so complex that the dragons of heaven and earth realized in that instant that they had never truly understood this reclusive member of their race.

“I saw it!” He gritted his teeth, looking as if he were facing a mortal enemy, even though Horaswalg had never held a grudge against him: “So—”

"I will take it away!!!"

……

It was another starless and moonless night. The Great Archives stood majestically in the shadow of the clouds, its massive stone bricks covered with mottled scars, just like the young dragon's body and soul at this moment.

Nidhogg leaned silently against the cold stone wall, gazing up at the night sky, not to see the bright moonlight hidden behind the clouds, but simply to express his current emptiness and confusion. Just moments ago, he had once again defeated those companions who had provoked him—whether out of jealousy or some other trivial reason—to call them companions was perhaps too close; they merely happened to be studying under the same teacher, and anything beyond that was unfriendly contact, just like what had just occurred.

However, they were far too confident, believing they could defeat me simply by virtue of their numerical advantage. In reality, this only exposed their cowardice; they didn't even deserve my respect. The scars left by defeating these weaklings were less medals of victory and more marks of shame.

Thinking this, Nidhogg gently wiped away the blood still seeping from his front paws, feeling a slight pain and frowning slightly. Just then, he suddenly heard footsteps behind him, landing steadily on the snow-covered ground with a low, muffled thud. He made no attempt to conceal himself, appearing completely open and aboveboard.

Were they hired as helpers by those guys who were unwilling to accept defeat?
What's the point of using the power of others to avenge oneself? What do you gain besides a embellished glory? Even such "glory" is worthless; only the most cowardly would consider it indispensable.

Of course, the one they asked to help was quite courageous, showing no intention of using numbers to his advantage. Or was he simply very confident, believing he could win on his own?
If it's the latter, Nidhogg will tell him how naive and absurd that idea is.

The scars on his body were not all from such minor skirmishes. Every named magical beast inhabiting this mountain range has been challenged by him many times. From initially fleeing in panic to now being evenly matched, some magical beasts have even memorized his aura and regard him as an enemy to be wary of, rather than a young dragon that has not yet grown up.

This was Nidhogg's way of honing himself, or rather, a way of venting his frustrations. Apart from him, no other dragon of his age would dare to hone itself in such a dangerous way, because such battles were not friendly sparring, but real life-or-death struggles that could endanger their lives.

Mentally, Nidhogg was already far ahead. Coupled with the combat skills honed in the deadly battles, he swept aside the other young dragons, never encountering a worthy opponent. Of course, this also made him even less popular with the young dragons, isolating him and making him appear even more aloof.

Nidhogg didn't care about the opinions of those cowardly dragons. Being isolated was actually a good thing. The torment of communicating with or even befriending those foolish creatures was far greater than the life-or-death struggle with those ferocious demonic beasts.

All he needs is victory, whether in the past or present, whether facing his own people or others.

Nidhogg was convinced of this, and knew this battle would be no exception. He was ready to fight even before anyone approached, though his wounded body was warning him, sending pain to his very soul. But this only made him more acutely aware of his own existence, and his blood began to boil, as if it were about to ignite, evaporating the snow on the ground and bringing about a thrilling battle that would make his blood boil.

However, just as he was getting ready to act, an uninvited guest dampened his spirits with a single sentence: "Excuse me, please calm down."

"I am not here to fight you."

So the blood that had just boiled cooled down instantly. Fighting a person who has no desires or wants is the most boring thing in the world. Neither you nor the other can gain what you want from it. It's more like a farcical farce than a real fight.

Nidhogg understood this principle. Upon hearing this, he lost interest in the visitor, and the momentum he had built up dissipated silently. He didn't turn around to look at the other person, nor did he say a word. He simply expressed his attitude with indifference: Since you didn't come here to fight, then you can leave.

The visitor read the implication in his retreating figure and smiled somewhat awkwardly: "Looks like I've disappointed you, Nidhogg."

Nidhogg's brow furrowed even deeper. He couldn't recall ever being addressed by his name so familiarly. What did this gesture and tone signify? Did the person know him well? No, Nidhogg felt only alienation towards that voice.

"Don't call my name."

He said coldly, "If there's nothing else, you can leave."

This personality is just as difficult to approach as the rumors suggest.

The visitor maintained his smile, showing no anger at Nidhogg's attitude, and said with great composure: "I'm here to apologize for what Ahola and the others did."

"Aihora?"

Nidhogg remembered him somewhat; he seemed to be the one among the young dragons who had provoked him earlier, the one he had beaten the worst. This conflict had been started by him, so Nidhogg had paid special attention to him during the battle, leaving him with a profound lesson to ensure that he would only dare to stare at him resentfully and not approach him in the future.

He sneered, "Apologize for their incompetence and weakness, for not being able to defeat me?"

To correct you, they are even more difficult to reach than rumored.

The visitor's smile gradually turned into one of helplessness: "No, it's an apology for their reckless behavior, provoking their classmates, starting trouble on their own, and their lack of remorse."

"Oh."

Nidhogg scoffed: "So they're the ones who should apologize, what does it have to do with you?"

"I apologize to you on their behalf."

"You mean you're qualified to represent their opinions?"

"I don't really like to belittle myself, but let's just say that's how it is."

Nidhogg was somewhat surprised by this subtle yet ostentatious confidence. He hadn't expected to find someone like this among his comrades. Was he simply too arrogant or self-important, actually believing he could represent the opinions of others? Didn't he know that everyone's thoughts and beliefs were unique and contradictory? Even those of his own kind who constantly provoked him had various reasons for their dislike and isolation, which differed and sometimes even conflicted. Under such circumstances, how could he possibly think that his own attitude represented everyone else's?
Could it be a crazy person with wild ideas?
Out of curiosity, Nidhogg glanced back, wanting to see just how many heads this guy had to represent so many different opinions. Just as he turned around, an invisible wind blew away the dark clouds obscuring the sky, revealing the bright moon.

In the moonlight, the other person's image was reflected in Nidhogg's eyes, both familiar and strange. Coincidentally, both feelings stemmed from the same memory.

It was a young dragon about the same size as him, but with a more magnificent appearance. Every scale on its body was polished to a brilliant shine, without a single flaw or scar. The dragon horns on its head were perfectly crescent-shaped, and when their ends touched, they outlined a full moon. Its pupils were the same azure color as the sky, clear and pure, more like exquisite gemstones than its body parts. This made the other young dragon, whose body was covered in scars and whose eyes were cloudy and dim, look disheveled and dejected in its reflection.

What's even more striking is his demeanor—calm and composed yet brimming with vitality, his humble and gentle exterior concealing a deep-seated, unwavering confidence. Standing there, he exudes a profound and unfathomable aura. If it weren't for his still-growing physique, no one would mistake him for a young dragon barely three hundred years old.

Nidhogg was stunned. The first thing that came to mind was not the scene of the young dragon leading other young dragons of the same age and behaving like a natural leader in their company, but something that his teacher, who had taught him the most important knowledge and skills, had mentioned at a certain time: "Your talent is excellent. Among the young dragons I have seen, you can be ranked second."

But the first-place winner is far more outstanding than you; his name is...

"Heraswalg?"

Give me some cats