Alice in the Land of Steam

Chapter 1468 Are you going to use this to deal with me?

Pereira did not attempt to confront this overwhelming force of nature head-on. Like a withered leaf swept up by a gale, she drifted through the gaps between the lava flows and the wind-locked barrier. The edges of her robes were scorched by lightning, and her hair was covered in dust. Each movement seemed perilous, yet she always managed to evade fatal attacks at the last second, leaving not even the slightest scratch. Nevertheless, she was not as at ease as she appeared; her breathing was slightly disordered, and her breaths were unusually rapid.

Because combat was something completely foreign to her.

Battles are rituals for taking something away, or even jokes where lives are at stake, but Perec never thought of taking anything that belonged to anyone, much less squandering her precious life in a joking manner. So, for a long time, she learned enough to save people: how to assess injuries, how to stop bleeding, how to suture and administer medicine. But the only way life knew to kill was her own uncontrollable royal power.

When she finally learned how to control her royal power, she thought she would never need to kill anyone in her life, and therefore, she wouldn't need to learn how to fight. As for the battle to conquer the Mikkelsen Corridor a few weeks ago, it was more of a performance than a battle. She only needed to appear in the prototype machine, the God of War, and the enemy would tremble with fear; she only needed to raise her hand to destroy fortresses or strongholds, and the soldiers would flee in disarray or beg for mercy on their knees.

Everything went so smoothly that no skill was needed. But the price of ignoring the basics is often heavy, so much so that the Plague Witch, despite her name, repeatedly retreated when faced with the enemy's fierce attacks, and was at a disadvantage for a time.

"Truly amazing..."

She whispered in the gaps between the wind and thunder, her voice so clear it seemed to be right next to Cheryl's ear. She seemed more amazed by the manifestation of this power than by her own situation—a typical researcher's mindset. Although Perec never mentioned it, for her, the happiest and most unforgettable time was indeed that of studying desperately in that secluded room to meet her teacher's expectations. Perhaps the calmer and more decisive aspects of her personality, different from her innate weakness and hesitation, were formed during that period: "Magic is like an extension of my arm, all things become extensions of my will—is this the power of the fairy sword Hydras?"

Beneath the leaden clouds, Cheryl's figure stood amidst the wind and thunder, appearing and disappearing, her fairy sword, Hydras, gleaming with a cool, moonlit light, as if resonating with the entire world.

Although the first wave of attacks was fierce, forcing the invading enemy to retreat, Cheryl was not satisfied, because the witch was not actually injured, and the emotions she showed seemed more like resistance. But, having already stepped onto the battlefield, what exactly are you resisting? At this moment, hearing the witch's sigh, her brows furrowed even more.

"It's still a long way off."

She calmly said, "The first owner used this sword to behead the evil dragon, and the second owner used its power to prevent the imperial army from advancing an inch. Compared with the two of them, I am not yet capable of unleashing the true power of this sword."

That being said, if the legendary witch is only this powerful.

That's more than enough!
Cheryl didn't say that last sentence aloud. She disliked empty talk and didn't want to appear arrogant or conceited. Therefore, if she had any ideas, she would ultimately prove them through actions.

She raised her longsword once more. This time, the light emanating from the sword was no longer violent, but rather gentle, like spring rain seeping into the earth, spreading outwards. The ground scorched by lightning, the sandstorm churning the air, even the lingering aura of lightning in the air—all the tiny magical forces composed of natural elements trembled gently in the light.

Then, they came to life.

Scorched earth rose, transforming into muddy brown stone golems; sand and dust condensed, forming translucent wind spirits; lightning bolts leaped between dark clouds and haze, coalescing into flickering thunder spirits. A vast army took shape in the blink of an eye. These spirits, seemingly composed entirely of elements, gathered together as if representing the power of heaven and earth—silent, majestic, and inviolable. But in truth, they were not true life forms; rather, Cheryl, through the power of the fairy sword Hydras, had given form to the will of nature and controlled it with her own spiritual power.

In other words, the myriad elements, countless spirits, and the vast army of nature were actually supported entirely by her alone. The demand for magic and mental power required was beyond description. In just a breath or two, the leader of the Holy War Army turned pale and sweat beaded on her forehead, but she still resolutely, decisively, and unquestionably swung her sword, using its blade to guide the army's charge.

It's hard to describe that moment in words.

The storm subsided, thunder roared, and the rumble of the sky and earth could be heard hundreds of miles away. Dozens, even hundreds, of mud-brown stone golems simultaneously took heavy strides. With each step, the scorched and broken ground rippled like water. Their running posture resembled mountains shifting, each step embedding itself deeply into the rock strata, and each rise up carrying up large amounts of earth and rocks, as if the entire battlefield trembled beneath their feet. The muffled thuds of rock rubbing against the earth merged into a deep, somber thunder, the heavy pulse of the earth's veins being forcibly awakened and propelled forward. Their bodies, originally only a few dozen meters tall, gradually grew taller with this unstoppable charge, rising like mountain peaks from nowhere, eventually even penetrating the clouds, like a barrier from all sides, surrounding the tiny enemy in a suffocating cage.

The sky was utterly torn apart. Thousands of translucent wind spirits converged and wove, forming a raging black ocean in the low sky. Countless whirlpools were born and destroyed within it, emitting sharp shrieks like billions of grains of sand rubbing against each other. It was tilting forward with the advancing mountains, threatening to crush and devour everything in its path. In the turbulent gaps of the wind spirit sea, the most deadly light pulsed and multiplied. The lightning spirits, known for their rage, were forcibly restrained by a will, transforming into a giant's spear that swept across the mortal realm. Each bolt of lightning seemed to have been tempered by fire, radiating a deep purple hue. Wherever the spear swept, the air was ionized, releasing a pungent smell of disinfectant. Fine pebbles instantly melted into bright red flashes, only to be immediately swallowed up by the ensuing sandstorm.

Under the control of this sword, all things in heaven and earth are subject to calamity.

Pereike stood alone at the very center of this elemental whirlwind sweeping across the heavens and earth, her robes fluttering wildly in the raging air currents, her hair whipping backward by static electricity. She gazed up at the collapsing sandstorm dome, witnessing firsthand the magnificent grandeur of the earth and mountains, her ears filled with the furious roars of the thunder god, deeply feeling the terrifying power of this force. No wonder the Empire had allowed the Holy War Army to silently amass power in the Fesser Mine.

Cheryl's single-handed attack would inevitably come at a heavy price, but unfortunately, her royal authority is precisely the best option to deal with such a massive human wave tactic.

Slowly, she raised the hands she had sworn to use only to save others. The intangible was released—the first time in three thousand years that she had actively unleashed its power. Without form, without smell, without even mass, in the eyes of modern science, the physicians and biologists of Sigria had long defined the fatal cause of disease as some kind of invisible microorganism, or what might be called bacteria. However, for the mysticism, and especially for the origin of all mysticism: the young queen's power, it was entirely different.

It is a rule that cannot be seen, cannot be prevented, and perhaps... cannot be cured.

This was the most irresistible calamity since the birth of life. When the plague began to spread, even air, water, and dust became channels of transmission, let alone those magical factors that could not be detected by the naked eye. The rocky shell on the surface of the stone puppet began to peel off, not shattered, but as if weathered by time into sand; turbid patterns emerged inside the transparent body of the wind spirit, like veins infected with disease, and its movements became sluggish and disintegrated; the flashing light of the thunder spirit gradually dimmed, the electric wires broke intermittently, and finally went out like a dying firefly.

The storm subsided, the thunder died down, and the earth and mountains crumbled. In the time it takes to breathe, the entire elemental army was reduced to silent debris, as if it had never existed.

Cheryl's pupils contracted slightly, and her fingers gripping the sword hilt tightened and loosened involuntarily. Although she had heard of such power from Ovira, witnessing it firsthand still instilled a subtle fear in her. This had nothing to do with courage; it was the instinctive reaction of a living being facing its natural enemy. If the inherent mission of living beings is to fight against death, then throughout history, disease has undoubtedly been the enemy that has claimed the most lives—war, famine, natural disasters… none can compare.

Because wars don't break out in every era, famines are linked to natural disasters and always repeat themselves in a regular pattern, only disease is uncontrollable. People are sick every moment, and naturally, people are dying every moment.

Given the terrifying power this opponent possessed, Cheryl wasn't too surprised by the legion's annihilation. What surprised her was: "Elemental creatures can also contract diseases?"

The leader of the Holy War Army said softly, "That's unheard of."

Pereira silently brushed a grain of sand from her shoulder, raised her eyes, and looked at him with a gaze as calm as a deep pool. She could have offered many explanations for this, but somehow, the first thought that crossed her mind was something he had once said to her.

“Because disease is not the privilege of flesh and blood, but a mechanism of evolution and elimination.” She said this as if she had accepted her past: “Plants will become diseased as they grow, mortals will contract diseases as they age, and even seemingly immortal stars in the universe will suddenly decay and perish at some point. The process of matter from birth to destruction is so complete, so disease is neither to prevent their birth nor to hasten their death, but another mechanism isolated from life and death.”

"So it's what they call evolution and elimination?" Cheryl pondered. "Survival of the fittest, elimination of the unfit. Acquired beings are bound to be affected, and naturally, innate elements are no exception?"

Pereike remained silent because she herself didn't know how to answer. Do people ultimately become the very thing they resist most? She didn't really want to admit it; this avoidance was less self-deception and more a lack of preparation. But her silence took on another meaning in Cheryl's eyes. The leader of the Holy War Army also remained silent for a moment, then bowed slightly: "I've learned something, and... thank you."

Only Pereke knew why she was thanking her.

If she were more despicable, or came purely with the intention of killing, she wouldn't need a direct confrontation. She could simply hide in a secluded corner and release disease agents into the Feather Mine. Perhaps the power of the fairy sword Hydras could achieve incredible miracles, such as instantly curing diseases or purifying impurities. But Cheryl herself is her greatest weakness; she doesn't have the unwavering willpower to control Hydras's power 24/7 without interruption. Perec, on the other hand, can, because it is her royal power.

But Perec didn't want to use this power unless absolutely necessary, because she couldn't be sure what kind of disaster it would ultimately cause if she acted recklessly. Since arriving on the Eastern Continent, the corruption that had once been far removed from her had become increasingly severe. The ancient plague witch had left behind many terrifying legends on this land, but there were also some believers who longed to obtain this power that controlled life. Their faith was like a catalyst for Perec, on the one hand tempting her to continuously fall until she lost control; on the other hand, it gradually strengthened her monarchy. Now, Perec was absolutely certain that she only needed a trigger to regain her full power.

An opportunity like that of Sister Carabosse.

The key is not ourselves, but the enemy.

Cheryl wouldn't be that catalyst, Perec was certain. Her display of power before the leader of the jihadist army was merely a way of showing, or rather, promising, that she didn't actually have a bloodthirsty streak. Was it the last vestige of kindness in her heart influencing her, or was it an attempt to sway the other's will? If possible, Perec hoped it was the latter; the best outcome, of course, would be for the other to back down, but that probably wouldn't be so easy…

As expected, after saying thank you, Cheryl raised the fairy sword Hydras without hesitation, its sharp, moon-like edge seemingly demonstrating the leader's determination.

"……I see."

Pereira sighed helplessly, and at the same time, slowly raised her hand and pointed to the sky above. A magnificent shadow was faintly visible in the rolling dark clouds: "In that case, I'll use it to deal with you."

Give me some cats