Alice in the Land of Steam

The moment the wind stopped, the world fell into an eerie stillness. Dust hung suspended in mid-air, as if lifted by an invisible hand; Serphis's heavy breathing, his heart pounding wildly, and the hissing sound from the joints of the mech, like rusty gears grinding together—all sounds of reality faded away rapidly, swallowed by a deeper silence.

Cheryl seemed to foresee the story's continuation amidst the deathly silence, and thus, despite her numerous wounds, she struggled to lift her head, trying to capture its approach. Her vision was blurred and swaying due to exhaustion and blood loss; shadows were rendered as indistinct patches of color under extreme contrast. Only the scene that pierced her soul could not be obscured by anything, descending with such intensity and shock.

The clouds split open.

It wasn't blown away by the wind, but rather brutally torn and bitten open from the inside by some enormous thing. The thick, lead-gray haze first caved inward, forming an ever-expanding vortex. Then, a sharp shadow, like the horn of hell, pierced through the center of the vortex, slowly revealing its ferocious head with a crushing weight.

At first, it was just a blurry outline, denser than the deepest night, swallowing the already faint light of the surrounding sky. Then, layers upon layers of armor plates cascaded down like cliffs, their obsidian-like surfaces reflecting no light, only a void that absorbed all light; gun barrels and towers protruded jaggedly like the skeleton of a colossal beast, appearing and disappearing in the surging clouds. Its descent was slow and unstoppable; could it be called a fall? It should be said that a colossal object was descending from the sky, intending to press the weight of the entire heaven onto this desolate land.

Cheryl forgot to breathe. Her throat was choked with the taste of sand and blood, yet she couldn't utter a sound. The Skywarp's attack posture froze. It slowly raised its head, its crimson signal lights flashing with astonishing efficiency and frequency. Rational logic told it should first assess this enemy of unknown origin; gathering intelligence was a priority in the battle. Yet, its bestial instincts surged forth, urging it to give the uninvited guest a warm welcome with its claws.

It was the forceful suppression of this fervent impulse by the Pereike in the cockpit that kept it frozen in place, watching helplessly as its opponent descended from the clouds without making a move, as if it had been terrified into a daze by this enemy whose size surpassed its own by tens or even hundreds of times. Only the taut, creaking leg joints and the violently boiling magic reactor deep within the machine still conveyed the prototype's unwilling and excited fighting spirit.

It was questioning its own pilot: why suppress its fighting spirit? You unsealed me from the cold, dark warehouse, and led me to this unfamiliar continent thousands of miles away, letting me witness its savagery and fanaticism firsthand—wasn't it all for this moment? I know you're looking forward to it too, right? So let's skip the pointless sentiments and regrets and get straight to the most exciting part!
--Shut up.

Pereike remained expressionless, unmoved by the Skywarp's instigation, coldly watching the steel fortress descend from the sky. Under her control, the beast, though frenzied and enraged, was helpless, perhaps suggesting that the Plague Witch's true nature wasn't as cowardly as she believed. Because we all know that only an even more ferocious beast can subdue one.

Finally, the real enemy she had been waiting for arrived.

Pere felt a strange emotion trembling in her veins. She tried to convince herself that this was a predictable development and that things were proceeding according to plan, but she couldn't explain why, in addition to confusion, she also felt fear, excitement, and exhilaration.

The first ray of light pierced through the clouds.

A colossal steel behemoth tore through the clouds, unleashing a divine light that swallowed the leaden gray and yellowish hues of the sky. The world seemed reborn, radiating an unprecedented hope, so intense it felt almost unreal. Light and darkness formed an extreme and terrifying contrast in that moment: below lay the desolate battlefield after the storm's respite, mechs as tiny as insects, and dying warriors; above, sky warships emerged from the clouds, bathed in the faint light of dawn.

Cheryl felt her cold blood begin to flow again, a faint yet persistent warmth struggling to revive from the depths of her heart. Her vision still swayed, the excruciating pain like nails driven into every bone, yet the massive silhouette emerging from the clouds brought a experience far more profound than the pain itself. Nibelungen, she murmured the name almost silently, her parched lips trembling slightly, like an instinctive prayer. Long times had passed, the ancient legends of Atorica had resurfaced; in the past, it was an evil dragon bringing disaster and destruction; now, it had become the last hope for those resisting tyranny. Perhaps, as time flows, fate also reverses, allowing the old to be reborn, and transforming evil into justice.

The sky warship continued to sink, its shadow gradually covering the entire wasteland. There was no need to hesitate any longer. Cheryl's hand moved with difficulty, her fingertips touching a cold, hard object beside her. It was the fairy sword Hydras, which now stood quietly in the sand beside her, its blade dim, as if it too had fallen asleep with its master's exhaustion.

“Sephis…” she called out hoarsely, her voice as soft as a sigh, yet clearly caught by the giant beast that had been guarding her side all along.

The wounded guardian beast whimpered softly, its massive head lowering, its warm breath brushing against Cheryl's bloodied cheek. Those beastly eyes, once burning with wildness and loyalty, now reflected the towering silhouette of the sky warship, seemingly understanding the rekindled spark within their master. No further explanation was needed; the barrier of language had long since been crossed between Serphis and her. The behemoth carefully opened its mouth, gently taking the hilt of the fairy sword into its jaws with a force that wouldn't damage the blade. Hydras trembled slightly in its mouth, a faint glimmer of light flashing across the blade.

As the guardian of the Fairy Sword, Serphis is one of only two creatures that can touch the Fairy Sword without being resisted by it.

Of course, a third party will appear today.

The next moment, the behemoth leaped into the air, soaring towards the steel fortress in the sky. Its battle wounds made its flight unsteady, yet its resolve remained unwavering. Pereira, inside the cockpit of the Titan, witnessed everything. Her expression remained icy, like a frozen lake, silently watching the guardian beast, sword in its mouth, fly towards the horizon. The fortress-like ship opened its hatches, swallowing it like a whale absorbing a small fish. Soon, this sword would fall into the hands of the Nibelung's master. By then, she would have mastered the powers of the evil dragon, the evil god, and the fairy; reshaping the ancient Holy Grail would be a matter of a single thought.

But Pereira had no intention of stopping it. She even stopped the Skywarp's restless fighting spirit, persuading the unruly beast with just one sentence: "You were resurrected to fight against a truly powerful enemy, so the stronger the enemy, the better it suits your heart, doesn't it?"

The crimson signal lights flashed several times before settling into a stable frequency. The Skywarp ceased its resistance; it accepted the pilot's explanation. Indeed, the battles with Cheryl and Serphis had been far from satisfying, and had failed to vent the impulse that had lingered deep within the system since its inception. The previous opponents were less like evenly matched enemies and more like competent punching bags, always taking the hits and rarely retaliating. But this new enemy was different. The Skywarp had a premonition that it would bring a strong surprise.

Was it arrogance, or...? The moment the Serphismon stepped onto the deck of the Nibelungen, the fairy sword Hydras in its mouth began to tremble violently as if summoned. It released its grip, and the sword, like a streak of light, swept across the deck, even piercing through the cold steel armor as if it were nothing, flying straight towards the control room, where it was finally gently grasped by a fair hand. Having fulfilled its mission, the guardian beast let out a low growl, turned, and leaped through the not-yet-fully-closed hatch, plummeting towards its master, its figure quickly swallowed by the enormous shadow cast by the Nibelungen.

Cheryl watched the returning Serphis Beast, a sigh of relief washing over her, before finally collapsing onto the sand. She murmured softly, her voice barely audible to herself, yet she was certain that the person in the Nibelungen control room could hear her: "I'm sorry, Miss Ovira, this is all I can do… I had hoped to defeat it on my own, but its power truly exceeded my expectations. However, I did inflict some damage, which might make your next battle a little easier. This is the limit of what I can do…"

Just as she expected, Ovira, though high in the sky, still clearly heard Cheryl's whisper. But it wasn't just her; the Skywarp also heard it. This prototype mech, possessing its own consciousness, stood across the entire battlefield, gazing at its initial adversary from afar. After a long while, the crimson lights in its eyes suddenly began to flash frequently, and its head tilted slightly, changing from looking straight ahead to looking down.

Undoubtedly, it was a mocking curve.

It mocks its enemy, like a wild beast mocking its prey with nowhere to escape.

Do you really think you can inflict fatal damage on me?

What an arrogant mortal.

Cheryl was suddenly gripped by an ominous premonition, a premonition so intense it even surpassed that of her first time as the wielder of the fairy sword Hydras, facing the invading imperial army alone, unsure of her and the Holy War's fate. She could hardly bear the onslaught of this premonition; her body was gradually enveloped in a chilling cold, and in that instant, the world before her eyes was stripped of all color.

The Skywarp maintained its mocking, overhead stance, its crimson signal lights flashing rhythmically, as if savoring the prey's final tremor. Then, the scars that covered its massive fuselage—the marks Cheryl had painstakingly etched in the long, arduous battle with her will, her blood, the claws of Isefith, and the blades of Hydras—began to writhe.

At first, there was a faint hum, like thousands of metal crawlers awakening beneath the armor plates. Then, at the edge of the deep, bone-revealing rift, the broken metal seemed to come alive, curling, extending, and merging inward; mercury-like ripples spread across the silver-gray and steel-blue armor surface, the torn plates rapidly mended, and the exposed pipes and mechanical structures were completely covered and swallowed by the newly formed alloy; the wound, several feet deep, shrank and smoothed within moments, as if it had never existed.

It healed itself...

No, that's not right! That's not self-healing!
Cheryl didn't sense any flow of life energy, and the cold steel body didn't resemble a mortal's flesh, concealing natural healing energy. So, it should be said that... time had reversed.

In the blink of an eye, the Skyship returned to its pre-battle state. This was even more cruel than self-healing ability, at least the latter could prove that the injuries Cheryl had inflicted were real, rather than being completely erased by an invisible hand.

Cheryl's body, slumped on the sand, stiffened, her breath caught in her throat, and her vision blurred again from extreme shock and exhaustion. But the mech was intact—no, it was even more cruel, more ferocious, and more arrogant than when it first appeared—yet it was imprinted on her retina with unparalleled clarity, searing her soul.

I see.

All the strenuous maneuvering, all the brutal exchange of wounds, all the illusion that had sustained her until this moment—the belief that she was finally turning the tide—were all deceptions. This mech, this monster named the Sky-Piercing, wasn't incapable of healing itself; it was simply deliberately concealing it. It was waiting for this moment, waiting for Cheryl to regain hope, to plunge her into despair.

What gave you the illusion that you could defeat me?

The steel mech couldn't speak, yet Cheryl seemed to sense that meaning and was terrified by its deep-seated malice. But what terrified her wasn't the malice itself, but its source. She struggled to imagine what kind of environment had shaped such an evil beast; its malice seemed not acquired, but rather an innate habit. Was it that its creator had mixed in too many complex emotions, or was the mysterious entity that served as the mech's prototype itself a powerful manifestation of this malice?
Its appearance is so sacred and majestic... but on the other hand, perhaps that is its true nature.

The more sacred something is, the more blasphemous it becomes; the more majestic something is, the more depraved it becomes, just like the gods of this continent.

Cheryl subtly came to understand the mech named Taikong. What followed was a shift from fear to compassion. Now she finally understood that this creature wasn't evil; on the contrary, it was controlled by evil, which was why it couldn't control its violent nature. (End of Chapter)