Alice in the Land of Steam

Chapter 1447 Prove it to me?

The roar of the dragon, so close at hand, created a violent shockwave that swept past, violently impacting Hraswarg's eardrums and briefly depriving him of his senses. He couldn't hear what Nidhogg was saying; he only saw his狰狞 (zhengning, meaning ferocious) face and angry expression, as if what he had just said wasn't out of self-awareness but rather an insult to him.

"Yes, cough..."

He struggled to squeeze out the words through clenched teeth: "What...cough...meaning?"

Dragon wings lashed the void violently, whipping up a platinum storm that enveloped both dragons. Their tails swept upwards, tearing gashes across Nidhogg's tough scales. But Nidhogg remained unmoved by the counterattack, his gaze fixed on him, his voice low and menacing: "You ask me what the point is? To take away your pride, that's the only point!"

"I do not have……"

"Stop joking around here!!!"

Nidhogg, with an unknown source of strength, lifted Hraswarg's massive body with a single dragon claw, then hurled it violently towards the mountains below. Hraswarg felt a sudden weightlessness and found himself losing control of his body, plummeting helplessly. His vision spun, blurring, but out of the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of a dark meteor streaking across the sky, hurtling towards him. He gritted his teeth, struggling to spread his dragon wings to maintain his balance, but before he could react, the meteor had already descended, landing directly above him, pressing down with unstoppable force.

"Uh!"

A heavy weight settled over his chest, the terrifying impact squeezing his internal organs. Herathwalg felt his entire body slipping out of his soul's control; the intense pain suddenly became distant, almost imperceptible. Then, the next moment, another powerful impact struck his side. A dark storm swept away the pain, enveloping him and transforming into countless tiny blades that tore and slashed at his body. At the same time, Nidhogg relentlessly attacked him with its claws, wings, and tail. Each attack felt like a meteorite crashing into the earth, leaving behind gruesome and terrifying wounds.

Amidst the fierce onslaught, Nidhogg, who had gained the upper hand, resembled a cornered beast, his face contorted with rage, as if he were extremely furious about something: "You say you have no pride, then what about what you said that night!?"

That night?
Hraswag's eyes were unfocused, as if he were recalling something. He had experienced many nights in his long life, but for some reason, when he heard Nidhogg's words, the first thing that came to mind was that distant moment. Starless and moonless, the snow on the ground was cold, and the wind was biting. He had found that solitary and aloof young dragon in the most secluded corner outside the ancient library, and thus began their only interaction in all this long history.

It was a long time ago, but the memory remains vivid. Hraswarg seems to still see the deep night, the breath of the cold wind whistling through the gaps in the scales, and hears two completely opposite voices: one calm and composed, the other cold and hostile. Two young dragons, still unaware of fate, are locked in a verbal duel, as if destined rivals. Their personalities, experiences, emotions… have nothing in common. Perhaps their only similarity is their unwavering persistence.

"I remember!"

Rather, how could I possibly forget?

Nidhogg roared in a low voice, his ferocious attack showing no sign of abating: "You're the one who keeps saying that I should pay some price for this name, bear some responsibility, inherit some glory... Do something for the small expectations of others, fight for something out of guilt, and you think it's right, correct, and just! You demand this of yourself and impose it on others. Tell me, is this your stubbornness or your pride!?"

Herathwalg heard his scales shattering, every bone in his body groaning. He remained silent, seizing an opening in Nidhogg's emotional outburst to break free of his restraints. Instead of flapping his wings to create distance as before, he silently swung his claws, launching his first counterattack. Although weakened by excessive power, his attack was easily blocked by Nidhogg, but his gaze regained its initial clarity and purity: "So… you decided to stand here because of what I said, Nidhogg? You've decided to answer His Majesty's expectations and not dishonor your name, Nidhogg?"

There's absolutely no need for that!!!

Nidhogg roared, the edges of his dragon wings like sharp divine swords, slicing through the void towards Herasvarg, only to be blocked by the latter's own dragon wings. If Nidhogg's wings were swords, then Herasvarg's wings were shields; the clash of sword and shield sparked dazzling sparks against the already shattered and scarred sky.

"I'm not standing here for such trivial things!"

Behind sword and shield, their eyes met. In that brief moment, he had nowhere to retreat; if Hrathwalg were to unleash his dragon breath, he would suffer immense damage. But Nidhogg was completely unprepared, staring intently at his destined rival, his scorching breath seeping from between his menacing fangs: "Your Majesty's expectations, the position of Dragon King, the responsibilities of your name… all of these are meaningless, utterly insignificant! I stand here to defeat you, Hrathwalg! Nothing else matters, nothing at all!!!"

“You mean,” Heraswalg met his gaze without flinching, his eyes burning, “that your hatred for me is greater than your obsession and insistence on other things?”

"I haven't persisted in anything, but I saw your pride!!!"

Nidhogg suddenly increased his strength, unleashing a burst of power without reservation. The sword's edge thus suppressed the shield's defense, and Nidhogg's power also suppressed Herasvarg's power. The two's positions changed, with Nidhogg gradually rising towards the sky, while Herasvarg gradually fell towards the ground, seemingly foreshadowing the final outcome.

"That boring, ridiculous, and pathetic thing is your only support!" With the sword's edge towering over the shield, Nidhogg looked down at Hrascwalg's inner world: "How unfortunate, Hrascwalg!!!"

Are you trying to say that it's my misfortune!?

"It's a misfortune of fate!!!"

Nidhogg roared, his sharp sword piercing the shield's defenses like a whirlwind sweeping across the earth, engulfing Hrasvalg's body. He was caught in a heavy vortex, helplessly plummeting to the ground. His two pierced dragon wings drooped limply, blood gushing forth uncontrollably. His body was so enormous, yet as he fell, he was as light as a feather. Feathers drift with the wind, without direction; having lost his wings, Hrasvalg no longer possessed the right to soar, destined to be nothing more than dust in the mortal world.

"Whoosh, whoosh—!"

Nidhogg gasped for breath, his gaze indifferent as he watched the falling dragon, unconcerned by the numerous wounds covering his body and the constant pain. He recalled their conversation that night, suddenly realizing that everything was preordained by fate, whether it was possessing this name or stepping onto this stage. Hraswalg had always been gaining, while Nidhogg had always been losing, so Nidhogg was enraged by the injustice of fate and decided to steal Hraswalg's pride at the Dragon King selection ceremony, making him experience the pain of loss for the first time. But often, the emotions of life are not so simple, and so, a casual remark from Hraswalg pierced the most vulnerable corner of Nidhogg's heart.

Unknown to anyone, the aloof and indifferent young dragon sometimes felt that he wasn't always losing; occasionally, he would gain something, however insignificant, yet precious enough. For example, the name his parents left him, his only source of pride, the expectation bestowed upon him by the name "the dragon that devours heaven and earth"... he possessed it, regarding it as his last source of support. But Horaswalg revealed that ridiculous truth, telling him that even the only name he received was a gift from others, a compensation from the Dragon King Bahamut out of guilt towards his parents.

How ironic.

It turns out that fate has destined you to lose something in life, and it won't let you gain anything. Everything is just self-consolation and a hypocritical facade.

Compared to his suffering, Hrascwalg's words seemed as ridiculous as a child's tantrum.

Why deny something you already possess?
Is it because you have received so much that you don't care?
"So--"

“Let me make you lose something, Horaswald.”

Nidhogg spread its wings, imbuing them with new meaning through its will, its stubbornness, and its obstinacy. When they ceased to exist as a part of its body and instead transformed into an intangible concept and image, they gained the power of endless extension. Thus, for the first time, the dragons of Adras recalled the meaning of the name "Nidhogg"—infinity, boundlessness, and limitless power.

They saw dragon wings, covered in dull scales, spread out before them, expanding towards the edge of the ancient mountain range. Their tips dug deep into the ground, undulating along the steep, rugged slopes. Their endless expansion resembled a towering wall rising from nowhere, blocking out all light. Even Nidhogg, the master, appeared minuscule compared to his own wings, giving the illusion that he wasn't flying, but rather standing atop a mountain, looking down upon all the insignificant creatures of the mortal world.

Beneath the dragon's wings, space shattered under an invisible pressure, but what was revealed was not nothingness, but a series of deep, heavy black holes. Like crouching beasts, they lurked in the shadows of the dragon's wings, endlessly repeating the process of contraction, expansion, rotation, collapse, devouring, and pulverizing, engulfing everything tangible and intangible—dust, sand, even aura and temperature—all vanished. The aura of destruction and devastation permeated the air, even affecting Adras below, causing the building to tremble and groan, seemingly on the verge of collapse.

The dragons witnessing the ceremony were astonished and terrified by the power Nidhogg displayed, whispering amongst themselves. But their voices were swallowed up and annihilated by the black hole before they could reach him, so Nidhogg neither heard them nor cared. He stared intently at the tiny earth, where, behind the shattered mountain, a massive shadow lay buried in dust—Heraswag, whom he had shot down.

"stand up."

Nidhogg's voice, though spoken from a great distance, was surprisingly calm, for he was not speaking of fighting, but of facing a predetermined end: "Heraswalg, rise and continue this fight."

"No need, cough cough!"

A weak response came from the smoke and dust. The enormous shadow struggled to its feet, coughing as it said, "I can do it without you telling me, cough!"

As the dust settled, Herasvalg's battered figure was revealed. His dragon wings were almost completely broken, clinging limply to his body, stained with crimson blood like a red cloak. His body was covered in wounds inflicted by Nidhogg's relentless attacks, the most gruesome of which nearly ripped his neck apart. Such brutal competition was rare in past Dragon King selections; most were moderate contests. After all, they were rivals, not enemies, and there was no need to fight to the death.

However, this does not apply to Nidhogg and Heraswalg at all.

The dragon presiding over the ceremony saw that the two were fighting fiercely to the point of almost dying. It considered interrupting the ceremony to give them time to calm down, but before it could make a decision, it received new instructions: ignore it and let the duel continue as normal.

The one who gave the instructions was the Infinite Dragon God, who was observing the duel from the highest point of Platinum Mountain, and was also the current Dragon King, His Majesty Bahamut.

He seemed more eager for the final outcome than the two dragons currently engaged in their duel.

The dragon presiding over the ceremony dared not ask what the Dragon King was thinking when he made this decision, and Nidhogg and Herasvarg had no chance to know either. They were still in a standoff—or rather, a standoff, because Nidhogg had already displayed his power to destroy the world and everything, while Herasvarg was as dim as a shooting star that had lost its light. Once this attack landed, on the surface, the latter would have absolutely no strength left to retaliate.

However, Nidhogg did not do that. He silently stared at Heraswalg on the ground. Their gazes met across a great distance. The heavy black hole squeezed the void as it spun, tearing out cracks like a shattered mirror. It looked as if the entire world was a glass ball under Nidhogg's dragon wings, which could be easily crushed and shattered.

It would seem foolish not to seize such a golden opportunity to attack, but Nidhogg stubbornly stuck to his original idea. He wasn't standing there for the throne of the Dragon King, but to take away the pride of a certain dragon, to make him experience the pain of loss for the first time, and to make him understand how ridiculous his words that night were: just because he always gets what he wants and can be indifferent doesn't mean he can demand the same standards from others; that's nothing but nonsense.

Will Heraswalg understand this principle, or has he already understood it?

Before all questions are answered, this brutal duel must first be brought to a close.

"Prove it to me."

Nidhogg said so.

Give me some cats