Alice in the Land of Steam

The Titan was frozen in the black and gray sky, like a motionless background in an oil painting. Torrential rain washed over the thirty-meter-tall mecha, accumulating between the armor seams and joints, flowing into countless rapid, dark streams. Even through the cockpit, Pereike could feel the chill of the rain, but even colder was the Titan's own mood. If it had been a roaring volcano before, it had now cooled, buried deep beneath the bleak haze and impure permafrost, awaiting its next eruption.

What calmed the beast down, or rather, plunged it into a deeper rage? Even Perec was astonished by its raging fury, a fire that seemed to have burned away all the mechanical parts and steel structure within the machine, leaving only a skeleton to support it. But even more unexpected was Ovira's attitude. From the moment she arrived on the battlefield, she had displayed intense and precise aggression in her words, each sentence striking a nerve with the Skywarp. Otherwise, how could this beast, who found pleasure in battle and carnage, have so easily fallen into the trap woven by the enemy?

Whether it's begging for mercy, provoking, or venting its anger, it's all just entertainment in the midst of battle, serving no purpose other than stimulating its violent and cruel nature. But Ovira's verbal attack wasn't a calculated provocation, nor was it an irrational outburst; rather... it was perhaps heartfelt pity?
Pity it for being a replica, a remnant created by mortals imitating the divine, a remnant that can never catch up to its original form no matter how hard it tries; pity its bestial nature, its helplessness driven by instinct, a beast closest to emotion yet forever incapable of understanding it; pity its birth, its insignificance, its fighting skills, even the meaning of its existence…

Since its arrival on this continent, the Taikong has absorbed endless malice from the faith of mortals: greed, tyranny, fear, numbness. Whatever it could sense, no matter how humble, chaotic, or evil, this empty beast accepted it all, as if it had also accepted its destiny as a vessel.

But it just can't accept... pity.

Especially the mercy from the enemy.

The torrential rain, like an ancient lament, wove an impenetrable gray curtain between heaven and earth. The Taikong hovered directly in front of the Nibelungen, the deep rumble of its thrusters mingling with the sound of the rain. Purple flames flickered uncertainly in the downpour, like a beast suppressing its breath, its claws withdrawn. It no longer attacked, no longer tried to find an opening, but simply remained silently in place, its scarlet eyes fixed on the colossal mountain before it, clearly seeing the trajectory of each raindrop sliding down its black hull. It was old, cumbersome, and scarred, buried underground for centuries, like an ancient machine from a backward era, yet in the battle just now, it had easily toyed with it, like an adult toying with a child.

Absolute power, a suffocating sense of oppression, and unparalleled combat skills... none of these are reasons for her to pity herself.

Because in this world.

No one can pity me!
Perec heard its voice, calm to the point of shrieking. The hatred remained, but no longer boiled; shame seared its steely heart, yet this feeling also forced it into an unprecedented coldness. The Plague Witch's lips pursed slightly, subtly resonating with the Skyship's state of mind at this moment, as if she had traveled through time and space back to the time in the laboratory facing her teacher, Metatron's, interrogation. She was unsure, however, whether her teacher's attitude towards her back then truly contained even a sliver of pity, or merely disappointment.

She closed her eyes, then opened them again, and exhaled softly. Her voice, carried through the cockpit and slightly blurred by the rain, still clearly reached the dark warship: "Ovira."

In this battle, she uttered her opponent's name for the first time, but only to convey the pitiful feelings of a beast-like machine. The plot twist seemed absurd to even Perec herself. After all, when the Titan displayed its brutal nature in its battle with Cheryl, the Plague Witch had forcibly taken control of the machine to suppress its savagery. From beginning to end, she believed that was wrong; that one should never be ruled by one's desires. But now, had that belief changed? Was it subtle, or was it foreshadowed?
"Let's have a real battle." The rain pattered against the armor of the Taikong, drip-drop like a heartbeat, or a countdown. "Don't try to fool me with that playful attitude anymore. Fight, slaughter, and only one side will survive—that's what it wants me to tell you."

The sound of wind and rain seemed to subside at that moment—no, a greater silence was brewing, spreading between the mountain-like behemoth and the humanoid mech. The Titan subtly adjusted its posture, its claws slowly retracting, a ghostly purple energy flowing between its fingers like breath. It awaited Ovira's answer, which would determine the nature of this battle. Whether born proud or created, all beings search for the meaning of their existence. The difference lies in the fact that the Titan's meaning was not determined by itself, but bestowed upon it by another.

It is a weapon of battle and slaughter; naturally, only a truly powerful enemy can give it a reason to exist.

"What is respect for life? The weak should die; what does it matter if someone pities them? As long as they bite back with their own claws. Born from malice, a beast that devours fighting spirit, using slaughter as their language, fighting tirelessly, pursuing death without reason. Without such a will, one cannot survive."

Pereike continued, each word heavy yet clear, as if soaked by rain. But this was no longer the sentiment the Skywarp wanted to convey; rather, it was her understanding of the prototype, or rather, the sentiment she herself wanted to convey to that person: "Container, replica, slag—these assessments are all apt, yet they are not important. What truly matters is that you must also have something you want to obtain through battle, Ovira?"

"So what if I am?" Ovira looked down at the forlorn figure drenched in the downpour. "Does fighting you guarantee I'll get what I want?"

Her words were so sharp they were almost unsettling. If it weren't for the fact that the soul of a young queen cannot be faked, Perec would almost have suspected she was a different person altogether, not the refined, quiet, and well-educated noble princess described in the intelligence reports. What had caused such a dramatic change in her? Perec wondered if it was the same reason she had voluntarily requested to step into this chaotic battlefield and be drawn into the endless slaughter.

"You can try it."

Coming to her senses, she calmly said, "All I know is that without fighting, you can't get anything."

Like Perec, Ovira also seemed to be recognizing the witch in a new light, her expression showing some surprise. But this was only for a moment; she quickly composed herself, reverting to her indifferent demeanor, and said softly, "If this is you—"

The Skywarp abruptly raised its head, its scarlet eyes flashing fiercely like an unfortunate calamity, giving off an eerie and chaotic feeling. Looking directly into those eyes, Ovira naturally changed the words that were already on the tip of her tongue: "If this is your wish, then I have no reason to refuse."

She stood in the center of the control room, raising the fairy sword Hydras high in her hand. The fairy's radiance suddenly illuminated the cold cabin, and the familiar aura from millions of years ago awakened the memories of this ancient warship. Evil magic transformed into streams of light, converging from all directions of the warship, flowing slowly and pulsating silently on the dark, corroded floor, on the moss-covered ceiling, and even in every corner where shadows and evil lurked, finally flowing completely into the Nibelungen's central system.

From Pereira's perspective, the giant ship hidden in the rain resembled a surging heart, enveloped in a fluctuation of mixed life force and evil energy. The streams of light that darted through it were the capillaries on the surface of the heart, long since withered but now nourished. With each powerful beat of the heart, the capillaries would expand further, and the blood flowing within them contained a power that even the gods would covet.

Fairies, evil gods, and evil dragons—a "miracle" that is unrelated yet intertwined—are about to awaken an ancient soul.

“For a beast like you,” Ovira whispered, “it is indeed the most suitable opponent, isn’t it?” As soon as she finished speaking, she flicked her wrist, reversed her grip on the hilt, and plunged the fairy sword Hydras down fiercely, just as a hero had plunged this sword into the heart of a dragon millions of years ago, thus ushering in a new era.

The instant the blade pierced the steel, time and space seemed to be stretched by an invisible hand. There was no roar, no tremor; even the sound of torrential rain pounding on armor faded into distant background noise. In its place was a vast silence, as if sound had been swallowed up, and even breath and heartbeat had ceased to exist.

Inside the central control room, Ovira leaned back slightly, a vast current flowing from the hilt of her sword. The resentment of a dragon accumulated over millennia, the whispers of an evil god residing in the ship's hull, and the pure blessing of the fairy sword—three forces that should have been opposing each other—were forced to merge in the furnace of her will. Azure-gold fairy light grew wildly like roots along the veins of this enormous heart, leaving no trace of the black, corrosive moss in its wake; instead, it was coated with a layer of holy afterglow. The dark red stains left on the dragon's remains spread out, transforming into a crimson pulse like a stream of light in the veins; and the whispers originating from an indescribable ancient evil god settled into a strange and ever-changing source of magic deep within the light.

No one can fully control these three powers, because they are inherently opposed. Using any one power alone will result in being devoured by the other two, while simultaneously controlling all three requires an immense amount of magical power and an absolutely pure soul. Therefore, throughout history, all mortals who have attempted to use the Holy Grail to fulfill their desires have ultimately become its nourishment.

Only Ovira was different.

Because she is a young queen.

Immense magical power? A pure soul? She possesses both, and of course, more importantly, her kingship is "mystery".

The omniscient laws naturally know the nature and characteristics of every power, and then, based on their analysis, perfectly accommodate, coordinate, and release them. Whether it is the transformation of fairy power, the tyranny of dragon power, or the unpredictability of evil god power, they will all ultimately become her own power. It can even be said that no one in the world is more suitable to be the master of the Holy Grail than the Mystic Kings.

Although this may not be a good thing.

……

The little bat paced restlessly in the cold cave. The sudden downpour left her with only the deafening roar of the rain; she couldn't even hear her own heartbeat, let alone keep track of the passing time. As a vampire with a long lifespan, she had usually lost all sense of time, but for some reason, she was unusually sensitive to it at this moment, unwilling to lose even a single second.

Countess Navel leaned against the rock wall, eyes closed, motionless; Ringer remained asleep, showing no signs of waking; Serena looked at the little bat with worried eyes, wanting to offer comfort but unsure what to say. Besides, she was probably even more anxious than the little bat, for behind the battlefield lay her home, her family and friends, the only place she held fond memories of since her wanderings began. If Miss Ovira were to lose…

No, how could I have such a thought!

The werewolf girl shook her head violently, banishing her ominous premonition from her mind. There was the blessed fairy sword Hydras, the legendary sky battleship Nibelungen, and the unfathomable Miss Ovira... Even the dragon skeleton of Nidhogg was defeated by her, so a mere witch would definitely be no problem!

Naturally, Selena didn't know what "witch" really meant. She had only vaguely heard her companions mention it—that it was the culprit behind wars, the mastermind behind distant continents, and a powerful being far beyond the gods. But these words sounded as fantastical and unbelievable to her, whereas the legends of Hydras and the Nibelungs seemed much closer, even right before her eyes.

So, we're sure to win, right...?

The rain suddenly stopped.

Before they knew it, the cave became eerily quiet; apart from their own breathing, they could hear nothing at all.

Leticia's heart skipped a beat, then began to pound even faster. Without even thinking, she hurriedly said, "I'm going outside to check the situation," and rushed out of the cave. Serena couldn't stop her in time, and the Countess seemed to have no intention of stopping her at all.

The little bat that came outside witnessed an incredible scene.

The rain didn't stop; the downpour continued, washing away the filth of this world.

However, the sound of rain disappeared.

The whole world fell silent. (End of Chapter)